Llynya's Song
by homeric
Summary: The return of a lost love, the revenge of an old enemy, and a choice with far reaching consequences. GawainOC COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **Nothing you recognise belongs to me

Set a couple of years before the King Arthur film.

"_Say not the struggle naught availeth,_

_The labour and the wounds are in vain,_

_The enemy faints not, nor faileth,_

_And as things have been, things remain._

_Arthur Hugh Clough._

He had given her daisies once. Tiny white flowers plucked from the long grass, their petals delicate and strangely touching in their pale vulnerability. Even now she is careful not to step upon them,; sways and weaves to avoid the fragile plants and ignores the jests of her companions. There is precious little beauty in this world, few things left that can remind her of happier days, and they had been happy days, if all too brief. She knows they laugh; has seen the pitying looks from the kinder members of the village, and ignored the contempt of those less forgiving. That she, Llynya, should have given her heart so easily was an affront to her nature, a lesson in stupidity, for he was not coming back. No, that at least is certain, he is not coming back.

For two weeks Arthur and his knights had rested in Sir Palomides' castle, guests of their host be they welcome or not. Whisper and rumour are fleet in such sheltered places, and by the time the shadowy figures passed through their village there were few that had not been warned of their arrival, fewer still that did not duck out of sight when they approached. Llynaya had crouched in the darkness silent and more than a little afraid when they approached, a small dagger curled in her hand. The sun had long since slid below the horizon, but she did not need it's light to recognise warriors when they were before her - did not need the harsh scrape of steel against steel to know that should their intentions be violent the village would not stand a chance. They needn't have worried. Daylight showed the menacing figures to be young men - well armed young men perhaps, but not demons, not the threat that had brought them all to the edge of panic.

She brought fresh milk to the castle every morning as she had always done, the pail heavy in her hand, nervous at the thought of seeing one of the knights and disappointed when she did not. The younger girls had waxed lyrical over their physical attributes, and while Llynya laughed and shook her head at such youthful folly, she could not help but wonder what had brought them here. Theirs was a farming community, peaceful and unencumbered by the political ties that caused disruption in the larger towns. Soldiers were unusual visitors, knights were almost unknown.

It was three days before she first met him, and ten before she first let him come to her in the silent hours of darkness, when all but she slept.

She had been alone too long to have her head turned by a handsome face and compliments, indeed the first time they had met she had been aloof to the point of rudeness. They had asked for water, he and his friend, and she had obliged, passing a cup to each of them with a silent prayer that they would soon be on their way. The fates had heard her plea and laughed - there was no other explanation for it. Bors, the larger man, had made a crude attempt at flirting with her - an attempt she rebuffed with icy politeness, almost snatching the cup from his hand in an effort to avoid touching him. His companion had been quieter, thanking her for the drink with a smile and a nod of his head. Eyes half hidden by the mane of braids and curls that spilled over his shoulders, it was hard to read his expression, but she had appreciated the courtesy and did not flinch when his fingers brushed against hers for the briefest of moments. That was the start of the whole sorry mess, and if she had had any sense whatsoever that would have been where it should have ended.

Perhaps if he had not been so kind, perhaps if he had not smiled and brushed her hair from her eyes when she was so flustered by his presence that she dared not lift her gaze from the ground… Perhaps, what if, I wish. Those are children's games and they achieve nothing. He should not have come back and she should not have welcomed him when he did. Wishing does not change what happened, and wishes can heal neither her heart nor her reputation. In the hot darkness when they had lain together, he had whispered words to her that she remembers but did not understand, words as unfamiliar to her tongue as the taste of his skin had been. She repeats them to herself sometimes, but they mean nothing to her any more- their magic is as lost as he is.

**A/N My first attempt at a King Arthur story - other chapters will be longer I promise. Reviews are very much appreciated - if Llynya turns into a mary sue then please feel free to hit me with a big stick :), and if anyone fancies beta reading then I'd love to hear from you.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Nothing you recognise belongs to me.**

The days passed into weeks, the weeks into months, and Llynya's life continued as it had always done. The cattle needed to be milked each morning, the chickens fed. life did not cease to follow it's eternal cycle just because she was unhappy. Gawain had been in her life for only a few short weeks she told herself, it would be best if she viewed that time as a gift, a loan of something precious that was always meant to be returned. These thoughts sustained her when she lay awake and tried to remember what his skin had felt like, the tickle of his hair against her cheek when he fell asleep beside her. She forced herself not to dwell on such things - he was gone and she remained here; she had been content with her life before, she would find a way to be content again.

Washing day was one of Llynya's least favourite chores, not least because of the whispers and nudges that invariably greeted her presence at the river side. Looking at the washing basket gloomily, she reluctantly admitted to herself that unless she was going to start wearing grain sacks, there was nothing for it but to get it over with today. She waited until late afternoon before making her way down to the river, most of the girls would have already left, and if she was lucky she would be able to complete the job in peace.

Tucking the basket onto her hip she followed the track down the slope of the meadow, enjoying the feel of the sun on her face, and the breeze that ruffled her hair. A rock shifted under her foot, and stumbling slightly, she knocked a washcloth from the basket. The little cotton square was white against the grass, matching the scattering of daisies beside it, the little flowers that had once meant so much to her. With a jolt of bittersweet memory Llynya closed her eyes, bending down to brush her fingers against the silky petals.

The sound of footsteps startled her out of her reverie, and Llynya barely escaped being knocked over by a girl carrying a wash basket so full that she had no hope of seeing where she was going.

"Easy, Beth!" Ducking out the way, Llynya grabbed the basket and helped the younger girl lower it to the ground. "A little overburdened aren't you? Unless you fancy a dip in the river, it might have been a better idea to carry it down in two loads."

"I can manage." Beths' round face flushed with embarrassed indignation, "Some of us have better things to do than moon about when there is work to do." Hefting the basket up, Beth staggered slightly and would have fallen backwards if Llynya had not caught her arm.

"Don't be so stubborn." Scooping up half the load and dropping it into her own basket, Llynya set off towards the river, the other girl following close behind her.

"Sorry." the apology was soft and a little reluctant, but Llynya smiled nonetheless. Beth was a sweet girl, if a little headstrong, and the washing would not be such a chore with someone to chat to.

For a while they sat in companionable silence, dunking and scrubbing the clothing until their faces were pink with the effort and their hands numb from the cold.

"I hear that Lillian is to be married," Llynya said, "they must be very much in love - they've only been courting a couple of months."

"Hmm…" Beth wrinkled her nose and shot her companion a mischievous look. "Give it eight months and I think the reason for their haste will be more than evident."

"That's unkind." Llynya shook her head in disapproval but couldn't help smiling, "you shouldn't spread rumours like that."

"It's not a rumour it's true. Anyway she's my sister, I can talk about her however I choose."

"That goes both ways Beth, how would you like it if she spread rumours about you?"

"She does spread rumours about me," Beth retorted indignantly. "She told everyone that I kissed James the bakers son behind the hay barn , and I swear I didn't."

"No? Llynya smiled to herself, it was no secret that James and Beth were sweet on each other.

"No." Beth replied haughtily, "I kissed him behind the blacksmiths forge." They both laughed at that, Llynya deliberately splashing the younger girl in mock outrage.

"They talk about you, my sister and her friends." Unable to meet Llynyas's eyes, Beth scrubbed forcefully at the tunic in her hands. "They say…"

"That I am a whore? A seductress willing to lie with any man who would make it worth her while?" The words came out far more harshly than she had intended. Sighing, she squeezed the water out of a ragged blanket before carefully folding it and placing it back in the basket.

"I didn't mean, I mean I don't…" Beth bit her lip and grabbed Llynya's hand. "We are friends aren't we?" She asked softly.

"That we are." Squeezing the cold fingers briefly Llynya got to her feet, resting the heavy basket on her hip. "Let them talk, I have sought neither their company nor their respect before - why should I worry if it is denied me now?"

"It's their loss," Beth replied mulishly, "believe me you aren't missing much. If I hear one more word about that stupid wedding I'm going to run away."

Llynya laughed and set off back to her cottage, bidding Beth farewell.

It was only when she had settled the cows and the chickens for the night that she realised that her best slip was not in the basket with the rest of the washing. Biting her lip in annoyance she remembered placing it to one side down at the river, meaning to wash it last. Obviously she had forgotten to pick it back up when she left. Sighing she pulled her shawl over her shoulders and set off to retrieve the garment before someone else found it.

The sun was low in the sky as Llynya made her way back down to the river. Her mother had called this time of the day the golden hour, and it was true she thought: the turning leaves gleamed copper bright in the dusk, the pale grass turned to wildfire by the setting sun. The swallows swooped swift and sleek in the dying light, their tiny shadows almost ghostlike as they flitted across the meadows. It would not be long before the birds departed to wherever they went in the winter time Llynya mused, the days were growing shorter and the blackberries were already ripe, as many a sticky fingered child in the village could testify. In a few months the memory of warm days and blue skies would be as dreamlike as a happy memory from her childhood, as pleasant as the memory of his hands… But she would not think of that she told herself: if regret were measured in gold then the whole village would be rich. She had no business yearning for something that had never truly belonged to her in the first place.

_Trust your heart and trust your judgement,_ she remembered her mother saying once. Ruefully Llynya wished that she were alive so that she could argue against such romantic idiocy - what had following her heart brought her? A broken heart and a bad reputation that's what, and by God she would not make the same mistake twice. That was the problem with the dead she thought as she scrambled down the rocky slope to the water, you can't argue back and they always get the last word.

Tugging her sleeve free from a bramble bush, Llynya looked around carefully before venturing further. The rushing water rippled and foamed at the riverbank, dark and strangely malevolent, and she jumped slightly as a water vole leapt from the thick grass into its depths. _Stupid girl,_ she chided herself, _afraid of a tiny water mouse. _She was relieved nonetheless when the slip proved easy to find, a small white flag upon the dirty ground, muddy but not lost. Shaking the worst of the dirt free, Llynya paused for a moment, a prickle of unease causing her to catch her breath and listen intently to the soft sounds around her. There was naught but the rush of the water and the hiss of the wind through the trees disturbing the silence, turning her head she scanned the dim bushes beside her and the quiet forest on the other side of the river. Nothing stirred, no dark figure leapt out of the shadows to attack her. Letting out a shaky breath, Llynya took a last look behind her and scurried towards the path that would lead her back home.

Darkness had fallen more swiftly than she had anticipated, and stumbling over tree roots and divots her progress was not easy. Almost falling to her knees for the second time, Llynya paused for a moment to get her breath back. _All this trouble for a slip that was now so dirty it was probably ruined_, she thought irritably.

The shrill scream that pierced the air was so wholly unexpected that for a moment she thought she had imagined it. Getting to her feet Llynya looked around uneasily, j_ust a fox, _she told herself_, just some silly old dog fox calling for a mate. _Far beyond the trees a light flickered, tiny at first but swiftly growing in strength, and Llynya felt the first cold sickness of real fear in her stomach; Foxes did not call for mates in the autumn, and the light was coming from the direction of her village. That had been a person screaming, that was fire she could see. Stumbling forwards as fast as she dared, a litany of possible situations flashed through her mind - the barn was ablaze, old drunk Charlie had set his little house alight, there had been a fight and things had gotten out of control and… Her shoulder slammed against a tree, sending her sprawling and erasing the images in a bright flash of pain. For a moment she knelt dazed and panting, before finding the energy to get to her feet. Cursing her carelessness she slowed her pace a little, the last thing she needed was to break her ankle and spend the night alone in the dark forest.

It was several moments before she realised something was following her, and several more before she dared to glance back. The eyes gleaming in the darkness were too large to be that of a fox or a badger, and from the way it steadily approached it was not afraid of her. _Wolf? _They were uncommon in these parts but not unknown, for the most part keeping well away from the humans that shared their lands. Attacks on humans were rare, but alone in the darkness Llynya saw only teeth and gleaming eyes, a monster that would hunt her down and tear out her throat. Forgetting everything she had ever been taught she abruptly turned and ran as fast as she could, her breath harsh in her throat and her heartbeat surging like thunder in her veins. Dimly she was aware of thudding paws growing ever closer, the snort of it's breath, as it leapt towards her. Llynya had only a moment to throw up her arm and shield her face before the beast was upon her, bounding out of the darkness in a snarling rush of teeth and rough fur. Falling backwards, Llynya scrambled onto her belly, feeling the animals' hot breath on her neck, her scream abruptly choked off as something hot and solid clamped over her mouth.

"Quiet girl," a terse voice whispered in her ear, "I won't hurt you, but unless you shut up you'll get us both killed."

Frozen in shock, Llynya stopped struggling. The hand over her mouth was removed and her captor turned her around to face him. The man was middle aged and scruffy, his hair and beard tangled as though he had been living in the wild for a long time. Sharp eyes studied her face for a moment before he grabbed her arm and hauled her to her feet.

"You're Rosies' girl aren't you?"

Llynya nodded mutely, this man was familiar - but for a moment she could not place his face. A nudge against her leg startled her and she looked down to see a lurcher sat at her feet. This then had been the "wolf" that had been chasing her. The dog triggered her memory and she turned back to the man beside her.

"You're Tom aren't you? The trapper from Tisbury? We have to go, there's a fire, we have to.."

"Did you not hear me before girl?" His sharp whisper cut her words off and he grabbed her arm roughly, "you go back to the village, you go to your death."

"What do you mean?" Llynya tried hard to keep the tremble out of her voice, but panic was once again rising within her. The smell of smoke was stronger now, and the noise coming from the village was louder - men's voices, a high pitched squeal abruptly cut off that surely had come from a piglet. _A piglet or a child_ Llynya though with cold horror. "What's going on, what's happening?"

"Saxons." Pulling her back towards the river, Tom glanced at the ashen-faced woman beside him. "Keep your wits about you girl, you're going to need them if you don't want to end up like the rest of the poor sods up there."

"What about everyone else," Llynya whispered. _Beth, was Beth alright?_

"Nothing you can do for them now." Dragging her along faster, Tom glanced back at the blazing village that lit the sky like a false dawn in the darkness. "The village is gone."

The next hours passed like a strange dream for Llynya, a dream of black trees and evil shadows. Numb with shock and fear she followed the trapper blindly, splashing through the icy river and scrambling up hills and through woodland. The dog loped beside them pale and tireless, like a ghost out of an old legend, and with every step they took they strained to listen, expecting to hear the thunder of hoof beats or the sing of a sword unsheathed from it's scabbard, that would herald their deaths.

The sky was brightening in the east before they finally stopped in a small sheltered clearing. Dropping to her knees she watched blearily as Tom snatched up handfuls of dry sticks to make a fire, only meaning to close her eyes for a moment, she was asleep before the first of the tinder kindled.

**A/N: Big hugs to my shiny new beta Carrie, and thanks to the people who offered their help - it was much appreciated. Nilmelwen, MissBubbles, KingArthurGirl, The Wild Woman, MedievalWarriorPrincess and Winged Seraph - thank you very much for your kind reviews.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Nothing you recognise belongs to me (obviously).**

Llynya woke to find the sun obscured by heavy cloud and the clearing empty. Pushing herself to her knees, she tucked her tangled brown hair behind her ears and looked around blearily: no sign of Tom or his dog, only the smouldering remains of the fire served as proof that they had ever been there at all. Stretching tentatively she winced at the pain that shot through her limbs; her muscles ached from last nights' journey, and she shivered at the chill of the wind against her dew dampened dress, tugging the shawl closer around her body.

"Tom?" She called as loudly as she dared. "Hello? Anyone? " There was no answer, no wolf-like dog bounding from the shadows, no rustle of footsteps in the crisp leaves blanketing the forest floor. _What to do now?_ The trees around her swayed as though in sympathy, sun dappled and unfamiliar - which way had they come? Which way would take her back to whatever was left of her home? Getting to her feet and turning around slowly, Llynya tried in vain to identify some sort of landmark; something, _anything_, that would jog her memory. It had been dark and she had been beyond exhaustion when they had made their way here, there was no path which she could follow, and even if there had been, there was nowhere to run to. If what Tom had said was true the village was gone, all that she knew obliterated. She had no relatives in other towns that would welcome her, no money, and she was alone and lost in the middle of nowhere. Slumping to the ground Llynya wept for the first time since her mother had died, sobbing in confusion and fear and grief for those lost, and hating herself for her weakness even as she did so.

"Easy lass, less of the blubbering if you please." Toms' footsteps had been so stealthy that she had not heard him approach. Lifting her head Llynya watched the older man poke at the dying embers of the fire with a long stick, somehow rekindling it into life.

"I thought you'd gone," she said hoarsely.

Tom gave a mirthless laugh, "been a long time since a pretty girl mourned the loss of my company." The fire was burning hungrily, and he tossed a handful of tinder upon it with the casual ease that only comes to one who is used to living without comfort, rubbing his hands in the welcome warmth. Glancing at the girl curled up so tightly she seemed to be trying to disappear, he felt a pang of pity. This could not be easy for her, and for the life of him he didn't know quite what he was going to do with her. If she had relatives he would deliver her to them as swiftly as possible, and if she didn't… Well that brought up a whole bundle of problems, none of which he had any answers to. "I thought you could use the rest," he said eventually. "Besides I'm hungry, and it's best not to let Lark hunt alone."

"Lark?" Llynya looked at him in confusion.

"Behind you."

Turning around she almost smiled as the shaggy grey lurcher wandered towards her, a fat rabbit dangling from it's jaws. "Clever dog," she said softly as it dropped the animal beside her and flopped to the ground, tongue lolling in what almost looked like a self-satisfied smile. Picking up the carcass Llynya looked at Tom. "Do you have knife? If you can find something to roast it on I'll prepare it if you like."The trapper looked at her in surprise before shrugging and pulling a small knife from his belt.

"Alright," passing the knife to her he walked back into the forest in search of a suitable branch, Lark jumping up and following at his heels. Llynya watched them go before setting to work on the rabbit, skinning it as best she could with the blunt blade. Tom had not left her out here alone, that was something, but the fact remained that she needed a plan or at least some idea of what she was going to do.

Despite the circumstances, it proved to be a good meal: the rabbit was plump, it's flesh tender and sweet. Peeling a strip of meat off the bone Llynya tossed it to Lark who wolfed it down and regarded her with the hopeful expectation of a dog who recognises a soft touch when it sees one. Tom watched the exchange with a wry smile - he had raised the dog from a pup, but when it came to loyalty Lark was inclined to side with whoever fed her best. Finishing the rest of her portion and sating both her and the dogs' hunger, Llynya glanced at Tom nervously. They had not discussed what had happened, and although her stomach twisted miserably at the thought of laying bare the terrible events of last night, it would be better to know what had happened while her memory was still fresh, no matter how horrible it might be.

"Tom?" She asked hesitantly, "last night, the village…" Beths' smiling face rose unbidden in her mind and the question she had been about to ask choked in her throat.

"You mean why? Why did they attack ?" Tom swallowed the mouthful of rabbit he had been chewing thoughtfully before replying. "All I know is rumours girl, and when you travel as much as I do they don't come to mean much at all."

"But you did hear something."

Tom sighed and looked at Llynya with tired brown eyes. "Aye, I heard talk, and talk is all it was mind, that Sir Palomides was not the good Roman that his status might have suggested."

"That's ridiculous. He treated us well, he welcomed Arthur and his knights into his home, what allegiance would he have to anyone else? There is no reason for it, what would he have to gain?" Frowning in confusion, she tossed the last of the meat to the waiting dog and watched as Tom silently prodded the fire. "You have an idea don't you?" she asked quietly, "you knew what was going to happen."

"I told you before girl, I heard nothing but gossip; but yes, this time I was inclined to believe it."

"Why?" Torn between anger and horror Llynya got to her feet. "You knew of the danger and you did nothing until it was too late? You did not think to warn us? There were children there, there were good people.."

"Do you think I don't know that?" He snarled. "Gods woman, why do you think I was in Hythe? It certainly wasn't for the hunting. Palomides has been making deals with the Saxons for months now - obviously someone got wind of it, why else do you think Arthur came here? The Romans have given up on us, it won't be long before the whole bloody country turns into one giant battle ground between Saxons and Woads. Palomides thought he could profit out of it and he paid the price, unfortunately so did your village."

"You're wrong," She whispered, "he wouldn't, he couldn't."

"He could and he did." Sighing in exhausted exasperation, Tom ran his hands through his tangled hair and looked at the young girl with pity. _Pretty little thing_, he thought to himself, _would probably clean up a treat after a bath and a change of clothing_. Lucky for him that there were neither available in the forest - keeping an eye on her was one thing, he had better things to do than act as her chaperone.

"But why?" Feeling the first prickle of tears behind her eyes, Llynya swallowed hard. "If he was a traitor like you say, why didn't Arthur kill him."

"Execute the nephew of the Pope? Child you know nothing about politics. From what I have heard Arthur was a warning - he had no real power to stop Palomides. Short of tying him up and dragging him back to Rome there was nothing he could do."

"He could have…" she fell silent. Gawain had been a slave to Rome, as had his commander; their orders were followed no matter what the consequences may be: if Palomides had truly been a nephew to the Pope then he would have been nigh on untouchable. "There is no point in going back to the village is there?" she asked quietly.

"No lass. Everything living is dead and everything of value taken - there is nothing left there for you," Tom said quietly. "Do you have kin nearby? Family that would take you in?"

"No." Llynya shook her head, "my mother was an only child and my father… I don't know where he is."

"I see." Tom felt his heart sink, although if he were honest he had anticipated her response. "I have a sister, Emily, she runs a tavern in Avebury. It's not the most refined of places, but she could use a good serving girl, and I'm sure she'd take you on. That is if you'd like to try."

Llynya looked up sharply, the first flicker of hope flaring within her. "Are you sure? I've never worked in a pub before -would she really hire me?"

"'course she will," Tom grunted, "bartending's an easy job anyway. Pour the beer, take the money and make sure no-one is sick on the floor. You'll do fine."

"I'd like that. I mean I'd like to try if she'd have me." Llynya watched curiously as Tom extinguished the fire and gathered up his meagre belongings, slipping the little knife back into his belt and tucking his blanket into the small knapsack he carried. Rubbing Larks' rough head, she realised ruefully that she had nothing of her own to bring save her shawl and the grubby slip that had caused so much trouble and had probably saved her life.

"Ready?" Tom looked back at the girl briefly before setting off, the patter of footsteps letting him know that both his dog and the girl were following at his heels.

It was almost sunset before they stopped to rest. Dropping to her knees in gratitude for the break, Llynya barely noticed Tom's preoccupied expression as they settled down, the older man already hunting for tinder with a vigour that she almost envied. He must have been almost thirty years older than her, and yet it was he who had waited for her to catch up, he who had helped her scrabble over the dry stone walls that had marked a farmers' land. They had not spoken much during the journey, and Llynya wondered how long it would take them to get to Avebury. She had heard a little of the town from passing tradesmen and by all accounts it sounded a pleasant enough place, yet it seemed wrong to be moving on so quickly - to flee Hythe as though it had not been her home, to pretend the buildings were not still smouldering and the dead lying unburied in the ruins. Yawning dejectedly, she stretched her legs and looked at her companion, the question she had been meaning to ask dying upon her lips. Tom was looking up at the sky intently, his body tense and coiled as if he had read some sort of warning in the clouds. following his gaze she could see nothing but the burnt umber of the leaves above them and the faint cry of a hawk passing like a shadow above them.

"What is it?" she whispered. Glancing around she could see nothing moving in the trees, could hear no sound of hoof beats thudding through the forest. A sudden warm breath tickling the back of her neck made her jump and she scrambled to her knees, throwing her arms around the scruffy dog that had crept up behind her. "Stupid dog.," she whispered, "shouldn't creep up on.." The words died in her throat. Behind Lark a tall dark man watched her intently, a slim knife held in his hand.

"Tristan!"

Frozen to the spot, Llynya watched as Tom approached the strange man and gave him a brief one-armed embrace.

"Well met friend," the dark man replied. "What brings you this far north?"

"She does." Nodding towards the cowering girl, Tom sighed in exasperation as Llynya merely watched them with bewildered unease. "It's alright girl, he won't hurt you - he's one of Arthurs' knights."

"I mean you no harm," added Tristan kindly, mistaking her silence for terror. "You have my word that I am no threat to you or your companion."

Llynya somehow managed to stretch her mouth into a grimace, the closest thing she could muster to a smile in the face of such a shock. "Thank you Sir." _Tristan_. she knew that name. Gawain had spoken of him: the scout, the dark man with the hawk and the sharp eyes - _Arthurs'_ Tristan. And if Tristan was here then Arthur was close, and if Arthur was close then… "Excuse me, " she blurted, giving a panicky cross between a nod an a curtsey, "I have to…" bounding into the undergrowth with more energy than she had displayed all day, she left the two startled men without a backwards glance.

**A/N Kind of slow I'm afraid, think of it as scene setting lol. The next chapter will be more knight-centric if that's a word (and I'm pretty sure it isn't). Thanks to Carrie my lovely beta, MissBubbles, The Wild Woman and Phantom 666 for the kind reviews.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **Nothing belongs to me except Llynya (and she'd probably be grateful for a kinder author!)

It took several moments before Llynya gathered the courage to return to her companions. As humiliating it would be to be thrust upon Arthurs' charity, it was still preferable to wandering the forest alone with a Saxon army nearby.

"I'm sorry." Giving a half smile to Tom and not daring to look at Tristan, Llynya walked over to their discarded belongings and picked up the shawl she had dropped earlier. "It has been a difficult day, I did not mean to appear rude." Tom smiled at her with a pitying kindness that made her stomach clench with embarrassment, and she did her best to feign interest in the scruffy slip that he held out to her.

" No harm done lass." Patting her shoulder in a paternal fashion, he carefully extinguished the remains of the fire. "Plenty of times Tristan's scared the wits out of me, but he won't hurt you."

"If he is a friend of yours then I have nothing to fear." Too nervous to look at the other man, Llynya twisted her heavy dark hair into a makeshift bun and smiled at the scout without meeting his eyes. "Forgive me for detaining you sir," she mumbled politely, "it would seem that I have lost my wits as well as my home."

"There is nothing to forgive." Giving a brief shrug, Tristan studied her intently. "You come from Hythe do you not?"

"Yes sir. That is, I mean that was, my home."

"You are acquainted with my brother." It was a statement rather than a question, and for a moment Llynya struggled to understand his meaning.

"Your brother sir?" Caught off guard, she looked at him blankly. There was no-one in the village who had borne any resemblance to this quiet, sharp featured man.

"Gawain."

"Gawain? You are his brother?" Startled, Llynya's curiosity outweighed her embarrassment, and she studied him openly. Gawain had reminded her of a lion stitched into a tapestry she had seen in Palomides' castle: all golden hair and sleek muscle. This man resembled the hawk that had announced his presence; his sharp eyes and silent grace making her feel clumsy and awkward in comparison. The two men were nothing alike. "You don't look like him," she muttered eventually.

"He is my brother by duty rather than blood."

"Oh." There wasn't anything that she could think of to answer that. Of course they regarded each other as brothers: they had fought shoulder to shoulder since they were little more than children, Gawain had told her that much. Llynya shifted uncomfortably, and aware that she had already spoken out of turn, she looked at Tom. "We should probably be on our way shouldn't we? There is still a long way to go if we are to reach Avebury before the end of the week."

"Aye, but there's no need to fret girl; Tristan is going to take us back with him. His company are camped nearby and travelling in the same direction." Mistaking her horrified silence for nervousness at the prospect of meeting a group of unfamiliar soldiers, Tom smiled at her reassuringly. "There is no need to be afraid, I know them well and none of them would do you harm. Besides, from what Tristan says, you are acquainted with Gawain - he will keep an eye on you."

_Yes, he has kept an eye on me in the past, and more, _she thought with slightly hysterical amusement_. Men are not usually so enamoured of their discarded lovers when they turn up out of nowhere though… _Llynya attempted a smile and let Tom usher her towards the pathway that snaked between the trees. He had been kind to her, he had saved her life and returned to their village when most would have fled. What would he think if she confessed that she had welcomed a man into her bed within two weeks of meeting him, well aware that he would be gone before the end of the month? What would Gawain say when she followed his friend to their encampment? He had wanted her, of that she was certain, but he had also left with little more than soft kisses and regretful eyes. There must be dozens of women scattered across the country that had the same fond memories: probably several unacknowledged children with blond hair and blue eyes as well.

Tucking her shawl around her shoulders, Llynya followed both men and bit her lip nervously. If she fled she would be lost and at the mercy of the forest, the weather and anyone who stumbled across her. Even if she found her way back to the village, what was waiting for her? Nothing but death and ruins, that's what. Her only hope was to follow Tom to Avebury and trust that he was telling the truth about his sisters' tavern. If she had to travel with Gawain she would do so - treat him with indifference and pretend that the past was forgotten. This situation was not one of her own making, and blinking back the sting of tears, she promised herself that she would not show weakness; she would be as silent and unobtrusive as Lark who trotted beside her.

It did not take long before they reached Tristans' horse. Tethered to an old chestnut tree, it watched their approach with mild interest, snuffling the scouts' shoulder as he untied him. Llynya shook her head in polite refusal when Tristan motioned towards the saddle. She was not a very good rider, and although she was grateful for the offer, walking gave her the chance to think without being watched. As they walked, the scout glanced at her from time to time, dark eyes almost hidden by the messy braids that fell around his shoulders, and she wondered what Gawain had told him about her. Did he look a her with pity? Contempt? Once he offered her half an apple which he had sliced with a deftness that made her uncomfortable, the steel sliding through the fruits' flesh easily and leaving a fleck of dried blood upon the portion he had offered. She had accepted it with a smile, but had rubbed the blood off when he wasn't looking. Gawain had mentioned that Tristan had a taste for bloodshed: she had not thought he had meant it literally.

There were three dead pheasants tied to the back of Tristans' saddle - presumably they were what had brought him into the forest. As they walked their blank eyes swayed with the horses' movement, and Llynya looked away, almost knocking Tom over.

"Alright lass?"

"I'm fine thank you." Embarrassed, she hunted for something to say. "How do you and Tristan know each other?"

"Long story, but let's just say that I owe Tristan my life, and he owes me a bloody good horse."

"Good horse?" Tristan snorted, "it was too short in front and half blind."

"It had sentimental value."

"Arthur mistook it for a donkey twice."

"Arthur had to be tied onto his saddle when I taught him to ride. He's lucky that his stallion has the sweetest nature this side of Wimborne tavern."

Llynya looked at Tom aghast and tripped over a tree root. Arcturus was a legend: to speak of him like that was unheard of, not to mention highly inadvisable when in the company of his men. Shrugging off Tom's attempt to help her up, she glanced at Tristan warily. He did not seem to have taken offence at her companions' comments, in fact there was nothing but mild amusement in his eyes when he looked back at her.

"You shouldn't say things like that," she hissed to the man beside her, "that is his commander of whom you speak."

"Don't fret Llynya, if Tristan wanted us dead we would never have made it out of the clearing." Laughing at her horrified expression, he patted her shoulder reassuringly. "I have known Arthur and his men since they were first brought over to Britain - I might be a trapper now, but there was a time when I bred the finest horses in the country, not everyone has forgotten that."

Tristan said nothing, and despite her curiosity, Llynya knew when to hold her tongue. Looking around for Lark, she searched the dark forest around them in vain: it seemed that either the dog had run off, or it did not share it's masters' faith in their companion. Tom did not seem worried, and mentally berating herself for her distrust, Llynya forced herself to watch the path they followed. The camp could not be far off, and she would need to be alert.

The encampment, when they reached it, was small and sparse. Expecting the usual trappings of Roman decadence, Llynya looked around in confusion when Tristan led them towards the fire glowing at the edge of the forest: there were no tents, no banners or carriages that would suggest the presence of a high ranking Roman officer. Half a dozen horses tethered in the trees looked up in interest at their arrival, but their quality was the only thing that differentiated the site from any other camp set up by poachers or travellers.

"Tristan!" A very handsome young man threw down the whetstone with which he was sharpening his sword and walked over to them. "What have you caught this time? Tom's a good hunter, but that doesn't look much like venison to me."

"If you're hungry, go catch something yourself Galahad," Tristan retorted. "Even you must draw the line at eating women."

"Wouldn't dream of it, especially when they are so pretty." Blushing at the lazy grin the young knight gave her, Llynya looked at Tom nervously, her worry slightly assuaged by the amused smile that lit up his face.

"Galahad. It is good to see you." Tom clapped the younger man on the shoulder and pulled Llynya forward. "This is Llynya, I'm taking her to Avebury. Tristan says that you are heading in that direction."

"I hope so - I've had enough of this bloody place. Two weeks here and all we've seen is squirrels and rabbits. Typical that the forest we get stationed to is the only one that even the Woads can't be bothered with."

"I wouldn't be complaining if I were you," Tom said ruefully. "There's a Saxon battalion not two days ride from here: enjoy the peace while you can."

"Saxons?" Galahad looked at Tom with consternation. "What are they doing this far south? Have you spoken to Arthur?"

"'course he hasn't, we've only just got here." Looping his horses' reins around a branch, Tristan motioned Tom and Llynya to follow him. "If you're still hungry then you can prepare these." With a faint smile he tossed the trio of pheasants that had been tied to the back of his saddle at Galahad's feet. "Don't overcook them." Galahad's reply was thankfully lost in the excited barking that marked Larks' arrival at the campsite.

Llynya had seen Arthur before, but the fleeting glimpse that she had caught when he was a guest at Palomides' house, did not prepare her for the for the unnerving vitality of the man that greeted her. His face was serious, and Llynya looked down when Tristan explained her predicament, not daring to meet his gaze. He had listened to her story quietly before taking one of her hands in his and squeezing it gently, assuring her that she would come to no harm now that she was under his protection. Llynya blushed and kept her eyes fixed firmly on the floor, but for the first time she understood why his men were willing to give their lives for him, why they killed in his name. A huge man that Arthur addressed as Dagonet approached at Arthurs' command, and with a polite nod, Arthur had turned her over to his care, his hazel eyes gentle despite the bloodstained armour that he wore. Llynya had not done anything more that curtsey and nod her thanks. Girls like she did not often meet men of such high rank, and although she had smiled when Tom and Arthur had greeted each other like old friends, it was with relief that she allowed the big knight to lead her towards a pile of blankets near the fire.

"You can sleep here." Dagonet's voice was low and stern, the scar that traversed his face making him seem even more formidable. Were it not for the kindness that lit his eyes and softened his expression, Llynya would have been too afraid to take the blanket that he held out towards her.

"Thank you," she said quietly. "I will try to keep out of everyone's way."

He studied her for a moment, and Llynya fought the desire to drop her eyes. "You need not fear us girl," he said eventually. "You are under Arthur's protection now, and there are none here who will allow you to be harmed. Rest, I will bring you something to eat ."

"That would be most welcome sir." With a rather wobbly curtsey Llynya watched the big man walk away before dropping to her knees and wrapping herself in the blanket. The fire was warm against her face, and although she fought her drowsiness, sleep came swiftly and unexpectedly. She did not wake when Dagonet placed a chunk of bread and a water skin by her side and laid his cloak over her, nor did she stir when the remaining knights returned to the camp.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** Nothing belongs to me.

Llynya dreamed of fire and black shadows, the thunder of hoof beats and the clash of steel upon steel. Whimpering in her sleep, it took a moment before the hand that shook her shoulder woke her from her nightmare, and several more before she opened her eyes. The fire was blurry in the darkness, the blankets beneath her twisted around her legs. Pushing herself to her knees and looking around in bemusement, she gave a shuddering breath and froze. A pair of boots were stood beside her hand, a pair of boots that were all too familiar.

"Are you alright?"

There was no mistaking that low voice, and turning her head slightly she could see the gold of Gawains hair gleaming in the firelight. The warm hand was still on her shoulder, and Llynya shrugged it off, her heart racing, glad that her hair obscured her face.

"I'm fine. Do not concern yourself sir," she said stiffly. She had to face him sometime - better that it was sooner rather than later.

"Sir?" He sounded almost amused. "There is no need for such formality between us surely?"

"There is every need Sir. It is not right for a woman of my position to address a knight with anything less than propriety." Llynya tried and failed to keep the bitterness from her voice. Pulling the blanket over her shoulders, she snuggled into it's folds with what she hoped was a decent attempt at feigning exhaustion. "I am sorry to have bothered you."

"Bother me? Tom tells me that you barely escaped a Saxon battalion, that you fled with nothing, and you are worried about bothering me?" Gawain snorted with exasperation, "Llynya, we were friends once, there is no reason to be afraid."

Biting her lip, she shot him a brief sideways glance.

"Gods, woman, is it really so hard to look at me?" Llynya felt her head turned forcefully by his hand, and unwillingly raised her eyes to his. He had not changed she thought miserably. Those were the blue eyes that had smiled at her patiently when he had first bedded her, that was the mouth that had given her such pleasure and broken her heart when he bid her farewell. Pushing his hand away, she moved back a little.

"I am not some foolish tavern whore Gawain, I did not seek out your company. Tom and Tristan brought me here because I had nowhere else to go. When we reach Avebury I shall leave and our paths will not cross again. You have no more responsibility towards me than I do to you." Dropping her eyes again, Llynya did her best to summon up the defiance she had felt before. It was not easy: she was half asleep and unnerved by his presence, the memory of her nightmare still lurking at the back of her mind.

"You are under Arthurs' protection." Gawain touched her cheek gently, and she felt her traitorous heart race. "Like it or not , I am bound to protect you."

"You owe me nothing, nor I you." Tucking her knees up to her chest, Llynya twisted her fingers into her skirts. "You took your pleasure and I took mine. That is all."

"We both know that isn't true." Brushing a strand of hair from her face, Gawain pulled her closer, his big body pushing Llynya back against the fallen tree that bordered the fireplace. "I have thought of you often since we parted. If things were different, if I was not pledged to Rome…" He sighed heavily. "I'm sorry I was not there to protect you."

"It's hardly your fault," she replied awkwardly. "It was Palomides' greed that caused our village to be attacked. From what Tom said, even Arthur could not have prevented it."

"He did what he could." Gawains' voice was soft, and Llynya chanced a glance at him. He watched the fire with troubled eyes, his expression making him seem far older than his years, and her hand reached for his as though it had a mind of it's own. He smiled at her tentative touch and squeezed her fingers briefly, his thumb caressing her palm. "You were supposed to have been safe there, you were supposed to find a decent man and bring up pretty children in your little farmhouse. We wouldn't have left if we had had any idea…" His voice trailed off, and for the first time Llynya noticed the blood on his tunic and the rough bandage wrapped around his bicep.

"You're hurt." Scrambling to her knees, she pushed back his tunic, any attempt at aloof indifference forgotten. "What happened? Has Dagonet seen to your wound? Have you…"

"Enough." Giving a wry smile at her concern, Gawain grabbed her arms and settled her back down beside him. "It's nothing. Barely more than a scratch, although I must say that it's nice to see that you care."

"I wouldn't go that far." Giving a him a half hearted grin, Llynya tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "I've only got one dress - I'd rather not get it covered in blood that's all."

"Ah, I see." He shook his head, "women."

Wrinkling her nose in mock disgust, she tucked her arms around her knees and smiled. "It wouldn't kill you to make more of an effort with your own appearance sir; if you hair gets any longer Tristans' hawk might try using it as a nest."

"Not if it values it's life it won't." With a sigh Gawain leant back against the tree trunk and studied Llynya. "You look tired."

She let out a breath in weary amusement. "I am tired, but since you woke me up, that is hardly surprising."

"You would rather I had left you to your nightmares?"

"You have left me before."

They were both quiet for a moment. The fire cast shadows across the small campsite, the quiet voices of the other knights sharing a wineskin between them the only noise that broke the silence. Watching the dim silhouettes huddled around the other fire, Llynya fought back a yawn.

"Go. Thank you for waking me, but there is no need for you stay here."

"It's hardly a trial. You needn't worry about the Saxons though, they're headed north - Tristans' keeping an eye on them, but it looks like they got what they came for."

"You mean they killed what they came for." She could feel his eyes upon her, and the sudden hot rush of longing was as unwelcome as it was irresistible. "Just because I've, I mean we've…. It doesn't mean that I'm going to again," she blurted out. "I didn't have any choice about coming here."

"I know." Rubbing her shoulder gently, Gawain got to his feet. "I ask nothing of you Llynya, and neither will anyone else. Get some sleep; there is a long ride ahead."

She nodded and bit her lip, pretending to study the forest so that he did not see the tears in her eyes. The trees were dark and menacing, and there was a certain comfort in the knowledge that as unhappy as she might be now, her fate would have been far worse if she had not returned to Tom and Tristan. A brief flash of movement caught her eye, and for a moment she thought it was Lark hunting in the forest, for surely no human could move with such stealth. The unmistakable twang of a bowstring swiftly disabused her of such notions. The arrow landed within inches of her leg, and before she had time to register the near miss Gawain had pulled her to her feet and dragged her towards the others.

"Arthur!" Gawains' warning was almost drowned out by the sound of swords released from their scabbards, and that was when all hell broke loose.

**A/N A little chapter I know, but I wanted Gawain and Llynya to have a little moment to themselves! Thankyou very much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: **Nothing belongs to me.

"Stay there." Pushed unceremoniously onto the ground, Llynya watched Arthur and his knights unsheathe their swords and turn to face the dark figures racing from the forest.

"Woads." Dagonet's eyes flickered to Arthur briefly, "about time they made an appearance."

"Gawain, Galahad." Arthur did not need to give them instructions. Glancing back with an unreadable look upon his face, Gawain followed Galahad into the shadows, his axe in his hand and his eyes troubled.

Llynya had no sword, no knife, but a part of her was infuriated at such a dismissal, and despite her fear she rose to her feet.

"I…" The thud of a large man struck down behind her, silenced her protests. His sword clattered by her feet and Llynya looked at Dagonet dumbfounded.

"Get down and stay down," he said tightly, "this is no place for you."

Llynya did as she was told. Crouching by the fire she made herself as small as possible and watched the knights run into battle, their armour shining and their faces fierce. It was difficult to tell how many Woads there were; their painted bodied melted into the shadows, making them seem more like demons than anything approaching human.

Tristan's horse erupted from the woodland, foam from it's mouth splattering onto the ground as it's rider pulled it up sharply. Swinging free of the saddle, Tristan unsheathed his sword with an economy of movement that Llynya would have found graceful were she not so frightened. Dispatching two Woads swiftly, he glanced at her with an indecipherable expression on his face, before wading into the melee. He was as silent in combat as he was in conversation, and Llynya watched him fight with a strange mixture of terror and admiration.

An arrow thudded into the ground beside her, and Llynya finally gathered some of her wits. Reaching forward she picked up the sword that had fallen from the grasp of the man that had been slain earlier. The hilt was slippery with blood and heavy in her hands. Flinching at the battle cry behind her, she swung round and hefted the blade up, eyes searching the forest for enemies.

The man approaching her was tall and lean, smeared with blue markings and burning with hatred. Llynya fought the urge to run, and instead swung her sword in a clumsy arc before her, almost losing her grip on it in the process.

"Roman whore," the man hissed. His axe gleamed in the faint light, and Llynya took a step back. _I'm not a whore_, she thought slightly hysterically, _I'm not even Roman. _Brandishing the sword in what she hoped was a defiant manner, she barely blocked the first swing of his axe, the impact shuddering through the steel and almost causing her to drop the weapon. The Woad recovered far more quickly than she did. Stumbling aside, Llynya felt her hair flutter in the wake of another wild swing, and winced as the blade cut into her shoulder, driving her to her knees. The hilt of the sword slid through her fingers and she did her best to raise it again, panic, pain and desperation giving her unnatural strength. The blade hit the Woad in the hip, bright blood splashing her face and slowing her attacker. With a roar of rage and pain, the man twisted sideways, ripping the sword from her grasp, and swinging his axe down towards her neck. Sprawled on the ground, Llynya had no time to dodge the blow. Closing her eyes instinctively, she felt the splash of warm liquid on her chest and wondered that death could be so painless.

"Gods woman, you got a death wish or something?"

A large rough hand dragged her to her feet, and Llynya looked down to see her attacker staring back at her with blank eyes, his throat a gaping wound. Fighting back the bile that had suddenly risen in her throat, she reached for the sword she had dropped, glancing back warily at the bald man that steadied her.

"What the bloody hell are you going to do with that?" The big man that she recognised as Bors, Gawains' friend, looked at her with exasperation. "Supposed to kill 'em with swords, not tickle 'em." Throwing the bent blade aside, he pulled her back towards the shelter of the fallen tree. "Stay there and keep your head down."

Nodding mutely, Llynya curled herself into the hollow formed by the fallen branches and watched as Bors ran back into battle, his bloodied blades flashing in the firelight. Her heart thundered in her chest, and with a strange calmness she wiped the blood from her hands. Half hiddenin the shadows she watched Dagonet snap a man's neck without any apparent effort, the kindly giant transformed into something that even she flinched from, Galahads' youthful exuberance twisted into a blur of blood and steel and shining eyes in the darkness.

Gawain had woken in the night sometimes - once he had even struck her, fighting free of a nightmare and not recognising her touch as that of a friend. Watching the knights she finally understood why. This was battle in it's truest form. The knights were outnumbered, the men that attacked them filled with the fury of those who believed they were defending not only their lives but their birthright; and yet they were winning. Gawains' hair gleamed in the firelight, his axes a silver blur. His face was splattered with blood and his expression feral. Llynya watched him cut down a huge Woad man and tried to reconcile this savage creature with the man who had once lain beside her with a gentle tenderness that had made her glad she could not purr as loudly as the stable cat.

Arthur who had smiled so kindly earlier, was wielding his sword with deadly accuracy, the bodies of those he had slain littered around his feet. Behind him a handsome curly haired man eyed their attackers with contemptuous disdain, his twin swords dripping with gore, and his eyes glittering with fury. As kind as they had been to her they did not seem human, and Llynya tucked her knees up to her chest, tried to make herself as small as possible, and prayed to the goddess for an end to the slaughter.

The battle did not last long. Disappearing into the forest as quickly as they had arrived, the Woads fled back into the trees, leaving their dead behind them.

* * *

"Llynya?" 

Blinking in confusion, she lifted her head and met Gawains' eyes. He was crouched before her, bloody but seemingly unhurt, and she made an attempt to smile.

"Is it over?"

"For now. Bors tells me that you were fighting."

"Ah." She bit her lip and fought the urge to burst into tears. "Not really fighting… more sort of trying not to die…"

"I thought so."

He put a hand on her shoulder, meaning to comfort her, but dropped it when she hissed in pain and pulled back. Worriedly he brushed her protests aside and gently pulled the sticky material from the gash it covered, calloused fingers tentatively probing the wound.

"You're hurt," he said quietly. "Let me get Dagonet."

Llynya swallowed hard and grabbed his wrist. She could feel the slick blood on his arm, clotting on the fuzz of hair that covered the powerful muscle, the flex of tendons beneath her fingers.

"This is who you are. This is what you were pledged to."

He said nothing, merely looked at her with tired eyes, his mouth twitching in a wry smile.

"Aye Llynya, this is who I am."

"How do you stand it?"

"By dreaming of better things." Running a calloused finger down her cheek he got up and shrugged the cloak from his shoulders. "Rest a moment, I'll be back shortly." He draped the cloak around her shoulders carefully, smoothing her hair as though she were a child. "Rest," he warned, looking back at her, "it will help."

Llynya watched him go in silence. Rest was the furthest thing from her mind - indeed she wondered if she would ever sleep again. Jumping at the nudge at her hand, she smiled at Lark who had somehow managed to creep up beside her.

"Coward," she said softly, running a hand over the rough fur, "didn't see you doing much fighting."

With a martyred sigh the dog settled down beside Llynya, her head resting in her lap, and Llynya wrapped her fingers in her coat, gratefulfor the comfort.

"You alright lass?" Tom and Dagonet walked over to her, grim faced and dirty. "I see Lark has decided to turn up."

"A little too late to be of any use though." Llynya gave a half smile, "don't really blame her for it though."

"Clever dog." Dagonet knelt beside her and ran a huge hand over Larks' head before turning to Llynya. "Gawain said thatyou are hurt."

"It's nothing." Slightly embarrassed, she fixed her gaze upon the dog beside her, "I don't think I'm really suited to fighting. Don't trouble yourself, it's only a scratch."

"If I don't see to it then I'll have Gawain to reckon with, and there's been enough bloodshed this night." Smiling kindly, Dagonet looked at her shoulder carefully. "You'll be fine. Once you're cleaned up a bit you'll be as good as new."

Llynya watched Tom walk away as Dagonet undid the front of her dress, and silently thanked him for his discretion. Too shy to meet the eyes of the man who tended her, she tried not to wince when he cleaned the cut and bound it, the strong fingers gentle despite his strength.

"Thank you." With a wobbly smile she pushed his hand away and re-laced her dress. "I'm sorry to have caused so much trouble."

"It was no trouble." For such a large man he moved lightly, and by the time Llynya registered the friendly pat on her shoulder he was gone.

The knights moved like ghostly shadows beyond the fire, and despite herself Llynya found herself looking for Gawain. She had always thought of him as a lion before, but for the first time she truly understood how accurate the comparison was. Lions had teeth and claws, lions killed and were in turn killed themselves. Watching the gleam of his hair and the curves of his face, she wondered how she had never noticed the sheer brute strength of him before, and tried to pretend that she was unmoved by it. When he settled down beside her and brushed his fingers through her hair she did not protest, and when he pulled her head to his shoulder she did not resist.

**A/N Well there we go - another chapter! I hope you didn't find Llynya too cowardly - remember that she's just a farm girl, she has no experience with battle. I'm sorry that we aren't able to answer reviews in chapters, but believe me they are much appreciated. Thanks very much to everyone reading this - may your Christmases be filled with joy and free of novelty knitwear : )**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: **Nothing you recognise belongs to me.

Llynya woke before Gawain did, but careful not to disturb him from his slumber, she ignored her sore muscles and kept still. He smelled of sweat and damp leather, his breath a faint plume in the cold morning air. Twisting her head slightly, she studied his face. His pale hair was tangled with her dark tresses and she smiled a little at the contrast - different colours, different souls, different lives. His eyes were closed and his body relaxed, the warmth of his arm a solid comfort around her waist. A little unnerved by the surge of affection that rose within her, Llynya dropped her eyes and turned her attention to the rest of the campsite, tucking her hands into her lap.

The other knights were either asleep or dozing around the fire - only Tristan seemed alert. He had given her a brief smile when she had awakened and then ignored her completely, his keen eyes fixed on the forest around them. Beside him Bors stretched sleepily and rubbed a big hand over his face, struggling to sit up. He yawned widely and grinned at her, and Llynya smiled back. He had saved her life the night before, and she was a little ashamed of her behaviour when they had first met. Uncouth he may be, but the heart that beat beneath the boorish exterior was kind and true. Glancing at the sleeping knight beside her, she pretended to roll her eyes and was gratified when Bors snorted with laughter.

"Best to let him sleep lass, he's a grumpy git in the mornings."

She suppressed a giggle and watched as the stocky knight drank deeply from his water skin.

"Thank you. For what you did last night I mean." As an expression of gratitude it wasn't particularly eloquent, but Bors didn't seem to mind.

"You're welcome." With a wink he wandered over to Gawain and gave him a none too gentle nudge in the ribs with his boot. "Some of us know how to take care of a lady."

"Vanora will be thrilled to hear that," Gawain muttered sleepily. Squinting as the light hit his tired eyes, he pushed Bors' leg away. "Haven't you got anything better to do than annoy my charge?"

"_Your_ charge?" Bors lifted his eyebrows in mock surprise. "Was this Arthurs' request? A Roman order perhaps? Some sort of divine…"

"If you don't shut up I'll castrate you with my axe, and Vanora will probably thank me for it." Gawain unhooked his weapon from his belt and wearily pointed it at the large bald man. "There are quite enough of your offspring roaming the country without you attempting to seduce Llynya."

Bors laughed and winked at his friend, "didn't see her complaining though did you?" With a wicked grin he wandered off to find Dagonet, leaving Llynya torn between amusement and outrage, and Gawain to hurl several expletives at his retreating back.

"I wasn't… I mean…" Llynya blushed and twisted her fingers in her skirts. "I was just thanking him that's all."

"Pay no mind to him," chuckling at her embarrassment he got to his feet. "If he's teasing you then it means he likes you - although I'd keep it in mind that he already has eleven children before considering him as a suitor."

"Eleven?" Llynya blinked and tried to imagine giving birth to so many offspring. "She must be as strong as he is."

"Aye, and a lot smarter as well. What she's doing with that old oaf is beyond me." The words were harsh, but his tone was amused. "Nonetheless, they do seem to have a certain amount of affection for each other."

"Vanora is his wife?"

"Not yet. Bors is stubborn, but unless he's entirely stupid he'll be married by the end of the year."

"They have eleven children and they are not wed?" Sheltered as she had been in her small village, Llynya tried to make sense of this. "Don't people talk? Doesn't she mind?"

"People talk and I suppose she minds." Gawain shrugged, "We do not live easy lives - our duty is to Arthur, and his duty is to Rome. It is not fair to drag others into our world."

"But you do. All of you do." Llynya looked at him with troubled eyes, "if there is nothing but duty in your life then why did you come to me?"

Gawain sighed heavily. Behind him the dawn had gilded the trees and softened the slaughter of last nights' battleground, the pale light concealing the blood stains and turning the blond knights' hair to wildfire. "You have seen battle now Llynya, would you be able to fight if you had nothing to fight for?"

"Everything I love is gone, and I am no warrior." Llynya suppressed her feelings viciously and tried not to look at him. "I have no desire to fight and nothing to fight for."

"I see." For a moment something flickered in Gawains' eyes, and Llynya fought the urge to take her words back. She was tired, she was hungry, her shoulder hurt, and snapping at him was the only thing that was keeping her from bursting into tears. Picking up a twig from the ground beside her, she pulled at the bark and put it down again.

"You can go if you like. I don't need you to look after me."

"If that is what you want." Llynya did not look up, but she heard the crunch of his boots on the ground as he walked away, feeling her stomach twist in misery as he did so. With a soft _whump _a small loaf of bread landed beside her, and she looked up to see Gawain wandering off, feigning ignorance of the food he had thrown to her. With a smile and a muttered "thank you", to his retreating back, she broke the bread as best she could ,and wolfed it down with a lack of refinement that even Lark would have found rude.

"Lady?" Dagonet's voice was polite, but he could not hide the mirth that softened his stern expression. "I take it that you have recovered your appetite?"

Glancing up, Llynya blushed and swallowed the mouthful with difficulty. For a moment she looked at the big man with horrified embarrassment, before the insanity of the situation caused her to give a most unladylike snort of laughter. Struggling to regain her composure, she wiped her eyes and shook her head in mortification. "Forgive me sir, there really is no excuse."

Dagonet gave a harsh bark of a laugh, his eyes narrowed with amusement. "No need to apologise." Kneeling before her, he stretched out a big hand, gesturing towards her shoulder. "I should check the bandage." Llynya nodded in acquiescence, looking away as he pulled her dress down over her shoulder and undid the dressing. Determined not to wince, she concentrated on the men gathered at the other side of the clearing. There was Galahad, laughing at something that Bors had said, there was Arthur, tall and imposing, his face troubled. The unfamiliar dark haired man stood beside him, his twin swords shining in the sunlight. _Lancelot_. It must be: she had heard stories of him, and watched curiously as he turned to Tom, obviously as familiar with her travelling companion as the other knights had been. Back in her village Tom had been rarely mentioned and seldom seen, preferring the solitude of the forest to the bustle of the taverns, and yet here he was talking with Rome's finest warriors with an ease that he had never displayed amongst the villagers. He had mentioned being a horse breeder before, that must be where they knew each other from, but it was strange nonetheless - how did he come to be little more than a hermit? Preoccupied by her thoughts she barely noticed when Dagonet retied the bandage and settled her dress back into place.

"All done."

She looked up startled. "Already?"

"Aye." He looked a little gratified by the unintentional compliment, and getting to his feet he held out a hand to help her up. "We must be off soon - do you know how to ride?"

Llynya bit her lip nervously. "I know how to - it's the staying on part that I tend to have trouble with. I haven't really had much practise to be honest."

"I see." With a thoughtful look, Dagonet ushered her over to the other knights before she had a chance to protest.

"Llynya needs a horse," he stated plainly. "Mine carries enough weight as it is, it would be best if she travelled with one of you."

Llynya looked at Dagonet with horrified disbelief before glancing at the men before her. Galahad was laughing, nudging Bors he whispered something into his ear, causing the older man to smirk in a frankly lascivious manner. Looking hurriedly away, she met Arthurs' eyes and felt the blood rush to her cheeks. _Not him, _she thought in panic, _farm girls are not supposed to share the saddle with Roman officers._ "I'm quite happy to walk, thank you…" She began nervously, "I don't want to cause any trouble."

"Bit late for that now girl." Lancelot ran his eyes over her appraisingly, his dark eyes studying her without any hint of embarrassment. _Any minute now he's going to run a hand down my legs and check my teeth,_ thought Llynya , trying to control her indignation. _I'm not a bloody brood mare._

"She can ride with me." Pulling his horse forward, Lancelot beckoned to Llynya. "Come on girl, I won't let you fall off."

"I would prefer not to." Feeling the hot surge of irritation rising within her, Llynya took a step backwards and almost fell over Dagonets' foot. Recovering herself, she ignored Galahads' undisguised mirth, and tossed her head defiantly. "I am quite capable of walking."

"I see." Lancelot did not look in the least put out. "And are you also capable of keeping up with a galloping horse for several miles?"

"I…" She glared at him angrily, trying and failing to come up with a suitable argument.

"Llynya rides with me." Grabbed around the waist, she found herself atop a familiar grey horse before she had time to protest. Looking down at the ground dubiously, she tried sliding sideways before being firmly pulled back by the big man who swung up into the saddle behind her.

"Where do you think you're going?" Gawain wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her tight against his body. "Every time I let you out of my sight you get into trouble - I'm not having you scampering around the forest, and you certainly aren't sharing a saddle with Lancelot."

"Why not." Hunching her shoulders, Llynya did her best to prevent any part of her body from touching his. "I don't belong to you, I may ride with whomever I please."

"You didn't seem so keen a moment ago." Gawains' voice was low, his breath warm on the exposed skin of her neck. Torn between irritation and hopelessness, Llynya watched the other knights mount their horses and pretended not to hear him. With a defiant shout, Arthur dug his heels into his stallions' flanks and set off at a gallop, the knights following hard at his heels. Wrapping her fingers in the horses' mane, Llynya finally abandoned any pretence at hostility and hung on for dear life, thankful of Gawains steadying arm around her waist.

The forest flitted past in a blur of green and gold, the shadowy woodland giving way to open meadows and blue sky. It was a little like flying, thought Llynya, her fingers damp with the sweat from the horses' neck and her heart thundering in her chest. Gawain was hot and solid and _safe_ behind her, and despite herself she smiled, losing herself in the giddy euphoria of their speed.

"Not so afraid now?" Were his mouth not mere inches from her ear she would not have heard him, and even as she smiled, she knew that any response would be swallowed by the wind. Instead she leaned back a little, relaxing into his body. The arm that held her steady tightened briefly, and she knew that he had understood the gesture. Let the future bring it's trials, she thought, she would be alone again soon enough - surely there was no harm in enjoying this moment.

They reached Avebury before nightfall and without incident, the cluster of low stone houses nestled at the foot of the hills strangely silent as they made their way down the main street. Arthur looked back at his men with consternation. Most villages would have greeted the arrival of knights with enthusiasm; even those who were against the Roman occupation would have at least made their presence known. Gesturing for Galahad and Dagonet to come forward, the clatter of Tristans' horse barrelling out of the darkness silenced any orders he might have given.

"Arthur!" The normally silent knight swung out of the saddle and glanced behind him warily. "We have to go - there is something very wrong here."

"What do you mean?" Arthurs' voice was calm, but Llynya noticed that his hand now gripped the pommel of his sword. "Are we under attack?"

"I don't know. There is no sign of bloodshed, but there are no people either. The livestock are still in their pens, and there is no sign of a struggle."

"Not Saxons then." Dagonet looked at his commander uneasily, "doesn't sound like Woads either though."

"It's got to be one of the two." Galahad tried in vain to steady his skittish horse, "what else could it be?"

"Not sure that I want to find out," muttered Bors, "we've got enough hassle without making new enemies."

The howl that shattered the silence cut off any retort and sent the horses into skittish panic. Regrouping, the knights looked around warily, and Llynya felt her heart sink. Whatever had made that noise certainly wasn't Lark, nor a dog fox.

"Bloody Britain." Gawains' voice was barely more than a whisper, but for once Llynya did not think to defend her homeland.

**Happy new year everyone! Thanks kind reviewing people - you keep me going.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.**

Arthur ran a soothing hand over his horse's neck and looked at his knights grimly.

"Keep together. I don't know what that was, but we will have a better advantage if we face it as a group. Tristan?"

The dark knight turned his head sharply.

"You are sure that you saw nothing suspicious before?"

"Nothing." He shook his damp hair out of his face and scanned their surroundings with fathomless eyes. "No tracks, no blood, no sign of a struggle."

"Then where is everyone?" Galahad finally spoke the question that they were all thinking. "And what the hell was that noise?"

Llynya untangled her fingers from the horses' mane and looked back at Gawain worriedly. With all that had happened in the past few days she should have been accustomed to strange events, but this was something else entirely. People did not disappear into thin air, and marauders did not leave the spoils of war untouched. Whatever had taken place here was beyond her comprehension, and judging by the reaction of the knights, not a usual occurrence. Gawain caught her glance and smiled reassuringly, but she could feel the way his muscles had tensed and saw the watchful apprehension in his eyes. The thing that had made that dreadful sound had fallen silent, but that did not mean that it had gone.

"Tether the horses and search the village," Arthurs' voice was firm and held no hint of indecision, "pair up and do not wander too far." He looked at Llynya with contemplative hazel eyes. "Llynya is your responsibility Gawain. Keep her safe."

"I will."

Llynya felt rather than heard his rumbling agreement, and wondered weakly if she should be insulted by such a declaration of ownership. She had caused enough trouble already - but being handed over like a child still rankled. The steadying grip of Gawains hand upon hers, and his breath against her neck as he helped her from the saddle sent such thoughts scurrying away. _Stop it, _she told herself furiously, _you are likely to be eaten by goodness knows what soon: now is not the time to be acting like a blushing virgin._

"Thank you," she said to a patch of ground beside his boots, "I'll be fine here though, I'm quite capable of looking after myself."

"Really?" She did not look up, but the amusement in his voice was all too clear.

"Really." Llynya tucked her hair behind her ear with a studied hauteur that was not particularly convincing, before ducking under the horses' neck. She had taken only half a dozen steps before she was pulled up abruptly by a hand on her arm. Opening her mouth to protest, she found her objection swallowed by the hot sweetness of Gawains' mouth upon hers, his rough hands pulling her tightly against his big body. For a moment she stiffened before relaxing against him, her hands tentatively brushing his shoulders before he reluctantly pulled away.

"Stop fighting me," he said quietly, "I'm not your enemy."

"I…" She blinked and shook her head in confusion. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean…You should probably be…"

"Aye, I should. But I'm not leaving you here on your own." He traced the line of her cheek with rough fingertips and she felt her stomach twist with longing. "It will be alright Llynya. If you don't trust me then at least trust Arthur. He has never failed us yet."

She looked at him thoughtfully for a moment. The knights were in a situation that none of them understood, faced with an enemy that they had not seen, and yet they kept their faith. Not to religion, not to ideology, but to the word of a man who had ordered them into battle since they were little more than children. It should have been abhorrent, it should have been incomprehensible, but she had seen the man and understood. Arthur's orders came from Rome but his loyalty was to his men. That was why they fought for him, and that was why they loved him. _Just as you cannot help your heart_, a little voice inside said mockingly, _they have chosen their fate and so have you._

"I trust you," she said quietly, "I trust all of you."

"Good." He gave a tired smile and reached for her hand. "Whatever is out there doesn't stand a chance against our lot - the mood Tristan is in, I almost pity it."

"You don't know that it's an "_It_,"" Llynya said hesitantly, "the hills are steep - perhaps it was a hunting dog we heard - the echo could have distorted the sound." At his condescending expression she wrinkled her nose with annoyance. "Perhaps it's a warning of some kind: a defence against people entering the village."

"And why would they bother to do that?"

He had a point. They were too few to present a serious threat, and the repercussions of defying Roman orders were all to clear - if that was what this charade was supposed to accomplish. Llynya looked around thoughtfully. Whatever had happened had happened swiftly, that at least was certain. The unlatched door of a nearby house swung lazily in the breeze, an overturned chair beside a table suggesting that someone had left in a hurry; an upended pail of grain in the pig pen, still mostly uneaten, indicating that it had not been long ago. There had been people here recently, so where had they gone?

"Come on." Gawain nodded his head towards the barn that bordered the paddock, and ushered her beside him. With a flicker of unease Llynya noticed the way his fingers curled around the axe tucked into his belt, and looked around warily for danger. There was nothing. A fat sow suckled her piglets in the pen beyond them, and the dim shadows of Dagonet and Bors searching the farmyard could almost have been mistaken for ghosts, were it not for the faint echo of the shorter mans' voice.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Llynya looked back nervously and almost ran into Gawains' back.

"Yes," he said curtly. "If I tell you to run, then you run, and if I tell you to be quiet then hold your tongue. Do I make myself clear?"

"Perfectly." She shoved down any petty irritation at his orders: she was well out of her depth when it came to warfare, and Gawains' voice brooked no argument. The barn was cool and dusty, half filled with straw, but devoid of any sign of life. Gawain prodded the pile of straw thoughtfully, but nothing stirred. The sudden clatter of a woodpigeon that had been resting on one of the eves made them both jump, and Llynya stumbled backwards, losing her balance and falling to her knees.

Gawain snorted with amusement, walking over to help her up. "You'll take on a Woad warrior, but you're scared of a pigeon? You should re-think your priorities Llynya."

"Hush." Llynya was still on her hands and knees, making no attempt to get to her feet. Between the slats of the barn floor a pair of eyes stared back at her, blinking in terror. "There's someone down here."

"What do you mean?" Gawain wandered over and crouched down beside her, gesturing for her to move away. Upon seeing the shadowy face, he looked up sharply. "Go. Find Arthur and tell him to come quickly."

Llynya nodded and turned swiftly, running out of the barn and back the way she had come. Holding her skirts out of the way, she looked around breathlessly for the knights, not daring to call out.

"Lass?" Tristan appeared behind her as if from no-where, and Llynya took a reflexive step back at the sight of him. He had been kind to her and she trusted him, but there was something very intimidating about his glittering dark eyes, and the curved sword he held with deceptive languor. As if reading her thoughts, he lowered the blade and softened his expression a little. "Lass? What's wrong?"

"There's a person in the barn. Under the barn I mean," she stammered. "Gawain said to get Arthur."

Tristan did not blink at such an odd pronouncement, turning he gestured for her to follow him and strode off, Llynya trotting to keep up behind him.

Arthur was deep in discussion with Lancelot when they found him and the other knights beside the tethered horses. Lark, who had obviously given up roaming the countryside, bounced up to them, tail wagging, and Tom shook his head at such inappropriate high spirits.

"Llynya has news." Tristan said curtly, and Llynya blushed as she suddenly became the focus of everyone's attention. She told them what she had seen as quickly as she could, and tried not to flinch as the Roman commander drew Excaliber with a sing of steel against steel.

"Lead the way Llynya." Nodding at her, he strode at her side as she retraced her steps as hurriedly as she could, well aware of the men unsheathing their weapons behind her. Gawain stood silently in the barn, grim faced and unmoving. At their arrival he gestured to Arthur. "There's a trapdoor over here - obviously it must be some kind of hiding place, but there's no way of knowing how many people are down there until we get it open.

"Then we proceed with caution. Dagonet?" The big man moved forward and bent to open the door which blended into the wooden floor so well that it was almost invisible.

"You'll be better off back here," said a voice in Llynyas ear, and jumping slightly, she let Lancelot push her back towards the entrance to the barn. "If we encounter trouble, hide over there and wait for one of us to find you afterwards." He pointed to a small overgrown orchard that backed onto the barn, before giving her a slightly condescending pat on the shoulder. Llynya nodded to show that she had understood, and watched as he rejoined the others; all of them tense and silent, their weapons ready and expressions stony.

The trapdoor opened with a creak, and Dagonet looked at his commander with surprise.

"Arthur. You had better see this."

The big Roman stepped closer to the opening, his expression changing from wariness to shock as he looked inside, and Llynya could not help but creep a little nearer, so that she too could see what they had discovered. Huddled in what was little more than a huge pit, were several dozen people - what had to be the missing villagers. Their ages ranged from a small baby wrapped in blankets and held tightly by a frightened young woman, to a white haired old man, who judging from his blank eyes must surely have been blind. They were silent and obviously afraid - even the two young men who held pitchforks in what was probably a crude method of defence, made no move to attack.

Arthur looked at his knights in bafflement before turning back to the group before him. "My name is Arthur Castus, I am a Roman commander and these are my knights. We mean you no harm, there is no need to hide from us." Stepping back, he motioned for them to come out of the pit. When none of them made any move to leave the shelter, he sighed in exasperation. "You have my word that none of you need fear us."

"Aint you we're hiding from," a small boy's voice piped up, before being hastily shushed by his mother, "it's the beast."

"The beast?" Dagonet looked at the boy, who quailed at the stern knight's glance. "What sort of beast?"

There was a moment of silence before a middle aged man stepped forward. He was as simply dressed as the others, but he had a quiet authority that led Llynya to assume he was someone of importance in the village. "We don't know sir. It's no wolf or boar I can tell you that much. It attacks both in darkness and daylight, and it only ever attacks people - the livestock are always left untouched."

Bors snorted. "Never heard such a load of pigswill in my life."

"Bors." Arthur gave the stocky knight a warning look, before turning back to the man. "And no-one has seen it? How do you know when it hunts - you can't spend all of your time hiding, surely?"

"No sir. There is a whistle that sounds before it comes, although we don't who calls it or for what purpose. We can go weeks without hearing it, or sometimes only a couple of days. In the past six months we've lost fourteen people to it - just dragged off before you can blink. Sometimes we find… Bits," he swallowed hard, "but never any sign of the creature itself."

"Are you sure it's a creature?" asked Arthur quietly, "Woads can disappear into the forest without being seen - they could be mistaken for beasts."

"We have no trouble with Woads." The man shook his head at the suggestion. "We leave each other alone for the most part - even trade goods sometimes." Remembering who he was speaking to, he looked up nervously. Arthur ignored the suggestion of disloyalty and turned to his men thoughtfully. "Well knights, it appears that we're going hunting."

"You'll help us?" A pretty young woman looked at Arthur with wide eyes.

"Yes." Arthur had obviously made his decision. "Whatever is out there we will kill, I promise you that. Come out of there and go back to your homes: my knights need quarters and we are hungry. Tomorrow we will try and unravel this mystery."

"Thank you my lord." The older man clambered out of the pit and nodded respectfully to both Arthur and his knights. "My name is Dynadan, and I am the head of the village. You and your men are welcome here - we are most grateful for your help."

Arthur nodded in acquiescence and reached out to help a heavily pregnant woman up the slope. The girl looked rather panicked, and watching the exchange Llynya couldn't blame her - kind Romans were as unusual as unicorns in these parts. Looking over at Gawain she smiled as he gave her a baffled shrug; whatever was happening here they were now a part of, like it or not. Thinking back to the eerie howl they had heard earlier, she suppressed a shiver of unease, and could not help but wonder if Arthur really knew what he was getting himself into.

**A/N Well, for what was going to be a little ten chapter piece of fluff, this seems to have become not so much a plot bunny as a were-rabbit… In my defence, Gawain and Llynya did finally get a kiss lol! Have I portrayed Tristan believably? - for some reason I find him really hard to write - so let me know if you have any suggestions. Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, and sorry I can't reply to anonymous reviews - they are appreciated though!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer**: Nothing you recognise belongs to me.

The villagers were nervous of their new guests, and despite Arthur's efforts to put them at ease, most stayed well away from the knights. There were four empty houses in the village - legacies of the beast's victims, and the men appropriated them with gratitude. Arthur took one for himself, although from the shyly flirtatious looks on the faces of several young women, he would not have any trouble finding someone to share it with should he choose to do so. Dagonet and Bors settled into another, and Lancelot and Galahad took the smallest: the younger knight complaining bitterly that Lancelot was likely to keep him up all night either with his snoring or his more vocal conquests. Tristan and Tom chose to sleep in the stables, Lark following them with a wagging tail that seemed incongruous when matched with the forbidding expressions of the two men. Llynya did not dare look at Gawain when they were ushered to their own quarters; he had been entrusted to keep her safe, and truth be told she would have felt even more uncomfortable if Arthur had asked someone else to look after her, but looking at the one narrow bed she inwardly cringed at the sleeping arrangements.

Before she had a chance to speak her mind, Dagonet called Gawain away, and Llynya was left staring at the plain room anxiously. _You can sleep on the floor,_ she told herself, _just because he is sharing a room with you doesn't mean you have to sleep together_. Compared to a forest ground or a camp that was likely to be attacked by Woads at any moment , this was luxury indeed. The little house was sturdy and well kept, and a fire blazed in the grate - a welcoming touch from a small girl who had vanished like smoke when she had tried to thank her.

A tentative knock at the door roused her from her reverie.

"My lady?" The girl standing in the doorway looked at her with bright curiosity. "I thought you might want to clean up a little. The soap probably isn't what you are used to, but the water is warm."

"It's wonderful." Taking the bowl from the young woman, Llynya placed it upon the floor. "It's been so long since I've had a decent wash it's a wonder that every Saxon in the country hasn't sniffed me out by now. I'm no lady either - my name is Llynya."

The girl smiled, sweeping her heavy blonde hair over her shoulder. " I'm Charlotte. Dynadan is my father." She handed Llynya a small bundle of cloth. "You don't seem to have brought much with you - I thought you might like to have something more comfortable to sleep in."

"That's very kind of you." Accepting the gift, Llynya placed it carefully upon the bed. "I've almost forgotten what it feels like to be clean."

The girl giggled. She was tall and willowy, and there was a mischievous light in her eyes that Llynya could not help but warm to.

"Your knight does not seem to mind."

"He's not my knight." Blushing, Llynya grinned at the girl's curiosity. "We are old friends, that is all."

"I see." She gave Llynya wink and tossed a blanket on the bed. "Well if you don't want him then there are several other girls that wouldn't mind taking your place."

"You can tell them that they are welcome to him." Llynya tried and failed to suppress the surge of irritation that had suddenly risen within her. "Tell them that he snores as well."

"I will." Charlotte tossed a log on the fire from the basket beside it, watching the pale wood kindle. "And what of the dark knight? Does he have a lady?"

"The dark knight?" For a moment she wasn't sure if the girl was referring to Arthur, Tristan or Galahad and was a little perplexed.

"The man with the curly hair."

"Oh, you mean Lancelot? No, I don't think so - or at least I think he has too many ladies judging by his arrogance."

"A challenge." The blonde girl smiled thoughtfully. "Perhaps he just needs taming."

"I would prefer castrating," Llynya replied with a smile. "He's far too cocky for his own good."

"Might be interesting to find out whether such self confidence is justified." Charlotte shot the older girl a wicked smile, "I'll leave you be, wish me luck." With a wink and a giggle she slid through the door, closing it carefully behind her.

Llynya watched her leave and shook her head ruefully: Lancelot would not know what had hit him if that wildcat got her claws into him, and somehow she had a feeling that she would. Slipping off her clothing she washed quickly and slid the shift that Charlotte had brought her over her head. It was obviously old, but the rough fabric was softened with age and strangely comforting against her skin. Sitting down on the bed she watched the fire for a while, losing herself in her own thoughts.

Gawain knocked softly before entering, and Llynya lookedup warily.

"Don't worry, I'm not the beast." He gave a half smile at the girl on the bed and unbuckled his weapons. " Is it safe in here or should I have you look under the bed before we go to sleep?"

"_We?" _Llynya picked up one of the blankets and held it in her lap. "You shall take the bed and I shall take the floor, and if something with sharp teeth comes in through the window then it is your responsibility to kill it."

"You are not sleeping on the floor." Gawain looked at her in exasperation. "What sort of a man do you think I am?"

"You are the one that's going to hunt goodness knows what tomorrow - you should take the bed." Llynya looked at him mutinously andshot a glanceat the open doorway, "I'll take the floor or sleep in the stables."

"For gods sake woman." Gawain kicked the door shut before she could dodge around him. "I've had enough of this. You will sleep on the bed, I will sleep on the floor and with any luck there will not be any strange creatures skulking around in order to devour us in our sleep. Go to bed. " The last three words were almost snarled, and Llynya bit her lip in irritation.

"Do not presume to tell me what to do _Sir. _If I had my way then we would have gone our separate ways and that would have been the end of it. If you and the others had done your job properly then you wouldn't be burdened with me at all." Clenching her fists she tried not to burst into tears: long pent up anger , sorrow and frustration barely kept at bay. Realising how pathetic she was being, she wiped angrily at her cheeks and runny nose and looked at Gawain fiercely. "Arthur and his legendary knights. Where were you when Hythe was burning? Where were you when good people were dying? Easy enough to take what hospitality is offered, easy enough to take what you want from the girls stupid enough to fall for you." She looked at him with red-rimmed, wounded eyes. "Arthur could have stopped it. And what now? These people are depending on you - how long before you receive other orders, how long before you walk away?"

Gawain said nothing. Locking the door behind him, he went to the fireplace and threw another log onto the flames. In the flickering light his face was tense and his blue eyes seemed almost black . "Arthur is as much a slave as I and the other knights are," he said finally. "We do what we have to - we have no choice in the matter. "Arthur meant what he said; he will do his best to help the village, but if we are called away then he will leave and we will follow. When we are liberated then perhaps things will be different. Once we have our discharge papers we will be free to forge our own futures."

"And when will that be?" Llynya tucked her legs under her and watched him carefully. "When you are all dead?"

"Most likely." Gawain gave a bitter laugh. "We follow orders from men who have never set foot in this country, who have probably never even seen bloodshed outside the walls of the Gladiator arenas. Our lives are worth little to them."

"It's not fair."

He shrugged. "It is the way things are - and Arthur is a good commander: there are precious few Romans that trouble themselves about the welfare of their soldiers, and almost none that hold their lives equal to their own."

"You care about him very much don't you?" Llynya said softly. Her anger had dissipated almost as quickly as it had kindled, and in the faint light her dark eyes gleamed with tired compassion.

"He is my leader, and he is my friend," he said simply, "now unless you want me to share the bed with you, go to sleep."

"You smell like your horse," she said with a half-hearted attempt at humour. "What makes you think I want you anywhere near me?"

Gawain laughed and pulled his tunic over his head. "You didn't protest earlier - anyway what's wrong with smelling like my horse? Falco has kept me company many a night, and saved my life more times that I can count."

Llynya shrugged and tried to avert her eyes as he folded the discarded garment, his muscles flexing in the firelight. "I knew you were fond of your horse," she said finally, "I had not thought that you actually slept with it."

"Only when I cannot find more agreeable company." He yawned and brushed a strand of tangled hair from his face. "Get some rest - it's been a long day, and tomorrow won't be any easier." His eyes were shadowed and his shoulders slumped with exhaustion: with a pang of guilt she remembered how he had woken her from her nightmare the evening before and wondered how long it had been since he had had the luxury of a decent night's sleep.

"You don't have to sleep on the floor," she said quietly. "The bed is big enough for both of us."

"Even if I smell like my horse?"

"I like your horse." Rolling onto her side, Llynya turned her back on him. For one long moment she thought that he was angry enough to refuse the invitation and fought the urge to turn around and apologise. Burying her face in the lumpy pillow she felt the mattress sag when he sat upon it and did not flinch when he settled down beside her, one big arm draping over her waist, his breath hot against her neck. Gawain fell asleep almost immediately, but Llynya lay awake for a long time watching the guttering fire. By morning the flames would have died down, but that did not mean that the embers could not be rekindled. Things had changed beyond recognition in the past few days, and if her luck held true to form then she would most likely end up as food for the legendary beast before long, she thought ruefully. Twisting around she tugged the blanket over the blond knight's shoulders, running her fingers over the scars that marred the soft skin and resting her hand against his broad chest. The slow steady thump of his heartbeat thudded against her fingers, the soft blond hair tickling her palm. Smiling slightly, she studied his sleeping face and snuggled down against his shoulder, barely noticing when he pulled her closer.

**A/N Sorry, short chapter - more soon. Fluffy fluffiness at the end there - couldn't resist! R&R pretty please (although if you've got this far then you've already read it…) Thanks for pointing out my mistakes Phia : )**


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaime**r: Nothing you recognise belongs to me.

**A/N** I'm not 100 sure about the rating for this chapter - I don't think it's that explicit really, but there is a scene which is a little more risqué than I usually write at the beginning. If you don't like that sort of thing then skip the firstfew paragraphs, or let me know if I should change the rating. As ever, R&R please, and hugs to everyone who reviewed the last chapter.

Llynya yawned and snuffled her nose against the pillow, the light in the room making her squint in discomfort as she struggled to wake up.

"Good morning." The rough voice came from very near her ear, and she would have jumped if she had been more alert. Opening one eye, she found a grinning Gawain looking down at her. "I won't ask you if you slept well."

"Hmm." Snuggling back down into the pillow she tried to pull the blanket over her head.

"No you don't." A big hand wrapped itself around her stomach and Llynya found herself pulled against Gawains' warm body, her hands resting against his chest, one leg winding around his hip almost unconsciously. For a moment she just looked at him. Sleepy blue eyes watched her with amusement, tangled blond hair spread against the pillow and gleaming in the sunlight. One hand ran over the curve of her hip gently and she sighed, brushing her lips against his and letting him roll her over so that his bulk covered her smaller frame. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she deepened the kiss as she felt him hardening against her, his hands running down her sides, her thighs, making her whimper with longing. His teeth nipped her neck, and Llynya shuddered against him, trying to pull him closer - wanting _more._

The knock on the door acted like a bucket of cold water in the face of such languid arousal.

"For gods sake." Chucking the discarded blanket over a startled Llynya, Gawain stood up and stalked to the door, throwing it open with more than a little angry frustration.

Charlotte stood in the doorway, slightly nonplussed at the sight of the half naked knight that greeted her.

"I've brought you some breakfast," she said , regaining her wits with remarkable speed. "Sir Galahad thought you might need the energy." Darting around him, she looked at the tousled girl peeping out from the bed clothes and raised her eyebrows before giving a wicked grin. "Your companions are out in the stable yard when you and your," she gave a very pointed cough, "friend, are ready to join them. You might want to put some clothes on first though." Putting down the tray she carried, she smiled at the blond knight with wide-eyed innocence before slipping back out of the room. Gawain watched her leave in dumbstruck silence, for once lost for words. Shoving the door closed he turned to Llynya, only to find her almost crying with laughter.

"I'm glad you find this so amusing," he said ruefully, "that girl is a minx."

Llynya nodded, wiping tears of mirth from her cheeks. "She is, isn't she? Oh but you should have seen your face." Untangling herself from the blankets she sat at the edge of the bed and tuggedthe shift over her knees self consciously. "We should probably find the others."

"We should. Although there are other things I'd rather be doing." He gave a her a wink and chuckled when her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Pulling his tunic over his head he reached for his axe and slid the worn leather belt around his waist. "I'll leave you to get dressed - you know where the stable yard is don't you?"

"Yes." Handing him the dagger that he had left beside the bed, she smiled as he ran a rough thumb over her knuckles briefly before taking it.

"No wandering off. We don't know what's out there - if you come across trouble then you run, either to me or one of the others. "

"Alright." At his sceptical look she gave him a smile. "What else am I going to do if I come across the beast? Glare at it? Give it a stern talking to? You lot are the warriors not me."

"Didn't stop you waving a sword around like a demented banshee the other knight, if Bors is to be believed."

"Demented banshee?" Llynya snorted in indignation. "I was fighting for my life, anyway I hit the bastard with it so I must have been doing something right."

"And nearly lost your head in the process. Speaking of which, how's your shoulder? Do you want me to ask Dagonet to have a look at it?"

"No, it's fine." Llynya flexed her arm with a wince, "I suppose it'll be my first battle scar."

"_Only_ battle scar," Gawain said firmly. "Don't be too long." Picking up a chunk of bread from the tray Charlotte had left, he closed the door behind him and went to find his brothers.

Llynya watched him go thoughtfully. Had it really only been a couple of days ago since she had given up ever seeing him again? Since she had vowed to herself to be cold and aloof despite what people might think of her? A fine job she was doing of that now - if Charlotte had not interrupted… Sighing, she reached for the bowl of water that the blonde girl had brought with the food. It had cooled enough to be almost cold, but she welcomed the chill of it against her skin and washed quickly, stuffing a mouthful of the bread into her mouth as did so. Her future was as uncertain as whatever was happening in the village. Was Tom's sister still alive? Did she still run a tavern, and would she hire her if she did? What was the beast - if it even was a beast? And then there was Gawain… Question, questions, none of which she had any of the answers to. Dressing quickly she left the house and made her way to the stables.

"Well it's got to be bloody Woads, doesn't it? All this beast stuff is just mucking about - messing around with people's heads."

There was no mistaking Bors' voice, and Llynya smiled to herself. Both he and Dagonet were big men, but it was amazing just how much noise the shorter knight could create in comparison to his stern comrade. Following the racket, Llynya made her way to the stable yard, stopping to pet Lark who had slid out from one of the barns and was clearly delighted to see her. It seemed that most of the village had come to see Arthur and his knights set off - a crowd had gathered around the stables; the youths tense and eager to join the hunt, the women giggly and nervous. Young children peered curiously from doorways, obviously instructed not to go outside by their mothers who watched the scene with worried eyes. Llynya paused for a moment, unsure whether to join the crowd or hang back. She could see Gawain already mounted on his big grey, deep in discussion with Galahad, the other knights holding back their impatient horses and waiting for Arthurs' command. The Roman commander was talking to Dynadan , his cloak scarlet against the drab surroundings, Exalibur shining at his waist. Catching Dagonets' eye she smiled at the big man when he nodded to her.

"Llynya?"

Glancingaround, she saw Charlotte walking towards her. The younger girl was wrapped in a worn shawl, her eyes bright with excitement. "A fine sight don't you think?"

Llynya laughed and turned back to the scene. "They certainly seem to have livened the place up a little."

"Indeed. Are they really as brave as people say? All I know is stories about them, and I can't help but think that they are exaggerated."

Llynya shrugged. "I've seen them fight - whatever is out there doesn't stand a chance ."

"Aren't you going to wish your friend luck?" Charlotte grinned slyly, "he seemed very keen on your company earlier, not to mention lacking quite a lot of clothing."

"That is none of your business." By rights she should have been outraged at such a blatant suggestion, but there was something so good natured about the girls'curiosity that Llynya did not have the heart to be offended. "But you're right, I should say goodbye." Biting her lip mischievously she grabbed Charlotte's hand. "Come and say hello."

The two girls weaved through the crowd giggling, the villagers moving aside to make room for them. Gawain smiled at Llynya when he saw her and gave Charlotte a rather sardonic nod of acknowledgement, a gesture she returned with a completely innocent smile.

"My lady." Arthur smiled at Llynya kindly, "I trust that you are well."

"Very well Sir, thank you." Blushing she curtseyed and tugged down Charlotte who was looking at the Roman with the same bewildered panic usually seen when rabbits are confronted with foxes. "He won't bite you," she hissed out the corner of her mouth.

"He's a Roman officer," Charlotte muttered when Arthur had turned away. "Knights are one thing, Romans are quite another."

"Why? They all fight for the same cause don't they?"

Any reply that Charlotte could have summoned was lost when Lancelot and Galahad rode towards them.

"Llynya. It is good to see you again." Galahad smiled politely, "I trust Gawain has been looking after you?"

Llynya shook her head with mock seriousness, "on the contrary Sir, I spent the night hiding behind the doorframe with his axe inmyhand because he said he would not be able to sleep otherwise."

"Perhaps it is you that should be riding with us then." Lancelot looked down at the two girls with a smirk, "feel free to bring your friend."

"What makes you think that I would wish to go anywhere with you sir?" Charlotte tossed her head with a little of her customary spirit. "I might be afraid of the beast, but I know how to avoid a wolf when I see one."

"Really?" Lancelot studied the girl unashamedly, and Llynya could not help but shake her head in exasperation - subtlety was a trait that was obviously entirely lost on both the knight and the girl. "You seem very sure of your opinions."

"Aye Sir, I suppose I am."

"Well then, I suppose I'll have to change your mind."

Arthur's shout startled them all, and Lancelot and Galahad turned their horses to follow him as the knights trotted out of the courtyard. Gawain looked back at Llynya briefly, tipping his head slightly in farewell. She smiled and returned the gesture, dimly wondering what they would find in the forest and praying for their safe return.


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: Nothing you recognise belongs to me.**

The two young women watched the knights depart with mixed feelings. Looking at the worry etched on the dark-haired girl's face, Charlotte took pity upon her.

"Come on." Charlotte grabbed Llynya's hand and pulled her over to a group of grubby, rather belligerent young children who were watching the proceedings with an unmistakable nervous energy.

"Llynya, meet Charlie, David and Peter. They're my brothers and the bane of my life."

Cuffing the tallest boy over the head when he stuck out his tongue at her, she thrust her new friend in front of them. "Be nice to her, she's already fought Saxons _and_ Woads: she won't take any nonsense."

Llynya raised her eyebrows in incredulity. "Who have you been talking to? I didn't fight, I…"

"Pish. That knight with the bald head and big belly was telling everyone how you fought in the forest, and even the Roman agreed."

"You mean Arthur?" Llynya could not help but smile a little, "I didn't really have much choice in the matter, and if it wasn't for Bors…"

"Hmm, excuses, excuses… " Charlotte patted the smallest boy on the back as he raced away. "Careful!" she shouted as he was almost run down by a plough horse being led towards the fields. "Bloody kids." The grin on her face softened her pretence at annoyance, and she grinned as they leapt past her, grabbing the smallest as he nearly tumbled into the puddle beside her. "Be good". Ruffling the small boy's hair she kissed him on the cheek and laughed when he rubbed his sleeve over his face in disgust, scampering off to join his friends. "Stay close!"

Llynya watched the scene and laughed. "They certainly seem to keep you on your toes." With a wicked grin she shot a glance at the girl beside her, "You certainly seemed keener on him than Sir Lancelot. I'm sure he would have appreciated a kiss goodbye."

"But would it have ended at a kiss?" Charlotte gave Llynya a sideways glance. "That one is trouble, I've seen enough of his kind to be wary of men like him."

"He's not that bad…" Llynya's voice trailed off. "Perhaps if he…"

"Met the right woman?" The blonde girl snorted with amusement. "That man meets the right woman on a regular basis I imagine - although the proper description would more likely be _willing."_

Llynya laughed and shook her head. "Yes, I suppose you're probably right."

"Doesn't hurt to look though… I bet he…"

"Charlotte!" Both girls turned around at the greeting shouted from behind them, startled at the sudden noise. A middle-aged woman with dark hair picked her way daintily over the muddy ground, wincing as the skirt of her woollen dress was splattered with dirty water by one of the boisterous young boys that raced past her. "Do you have a moment?"

"Of course." Charlottereclaimed Llynya's hand and pulled her forwards. "Have you met Llynya yet? She came with the knights."

"So this is Llynya." The older woman appraised her with thoughtfully, and Llynya had to fight from squirming under such blatant scrutiny.

"That's right, I'm Llynya." She shook her hair from her shoulders and narrowed her eyes defiantly. "Who are you?"

"Calm down child, I won't bite you." The woman smiled and touched Llynya's cheek with soft fingers. "My name is Louisa, I believe that you are acquainted with my brother Tom."

"Oh." Llynya relaxed a little and looked into the kind dark eyes with interest. "I am. He has been very kind to me. I haven't seen him today… perhaps he's with the knights."

"He's in the tavern," Louisa said wryly, "If you seek Tom then it's either the forest or the tavern with him. He told me that you were looking for a job."

Llynya blinked. Of all the ways that this scene had been re-enacted in her head, standing in the middle of a courtyard with a muddy dress and her manners completely absent, wasn't the ideal scenario.

"I am miss, I mean Louisa."

"Then it is settled. I'll take you on as a trial barmaid for a week - we'll see how you do. You can follow Charlotte tonight, she'll show you the ropes. "

"Thank you." Llynya gave an awkward curtsey, only to flush with mortification at Louisa's laugh.

"Don't curtsey to me girl, if you are going to succeed here then you'll have to learn to toughen up. But you'll learn love, and Charlie here will help you. Tom says you have a good head on your shoulders, and he's no fool. I'll see you at sundown. Assuming the beast doesn't get you first." With a friendly pat to Llynya's shoulder, and a smile to Charlotte, Louisa made her way back to the big stone building at the end of the street.

"That woman has a very strange sense of humour," said Charlotte, shaking her head in annoyance. "Most don't even speak of the bloody thing, but ever since David she almost seems to invite it."

"David?" Llynya watched the woman walk away and turned to the other girl. "Who was David?"

"Her son. He was taken a few months back."

"Did they find him?" Llynya looked nervously at the mothers ushering their children into their houses and the silent hills that rose behind the village.

"It was hard to tell." Charlottes' eyes seemed to darken and her hand tightened around Llynya's wrist. "Come on, we've got work to do."

Gawain nudged his horse forward and tried to ignore the faint drizzle that dampened his clothing and chilled his skin. Truly this was a godforsaken country, and looking at the dark forest that surrounded the trail they were following, a dangerous one as well. His horse snorted and snatched at the bit as though in sympathy, and he patted it's neck reassuringly, before looking up at the man who had drawn up alongside him.

"Nothing like some fresh air is there?" Bors grunted, rubbing a big hand over his roughly shaven head. "Can't imagine anything bothering to live here. If there's a beast out there then it's a bloody stupid one."

"Where Arthur goes we follow," Gawain replied without rancour. "Frankly I'm sure that this is pointless, but we've fought Woads before and we will again. The villagers are scared to death - it makes a pleasant change to fight for decent people for once."

"You think it's Woads?" Bors raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you scared of the mythical beastie?"

A slap to his shoulder startled Gawain, and had him reaching for his axe without thinking.

"Grrr." The youngest knight was obviously less than worried by the prospect of a wild beast, and laughed at the blond knights' outraged face as he cantered past. Snarling several curse words at Galahads rapidly retreating back, the older man tucked the weapon back into his belt.

"Stupid boy. One of these days he's going to get an axe embedded in his…"

Bors snorted with amusement. "You two are already a pain in the arse - you don't need to insert weapons where the sun don't shine."

"Thank you Bors, It's nice to know I can count on you. Should have brought Vanora with us - a bollocking from her would have sent anyone or anything heading for the hills with their tails between their legs."

"Yeah." The big man smiled fondly, "She's got spirit my Vanora, that's why I love her. Speaking of which, what are you going to do about Llynya? For someone who left their lover and pretended that they weren't bothered, you seem awfully protective of her."

"Leave Llynya out of this," Gawain snapped. "You of all people know why I left her there. She deserves better than a man who will be forced to abandon her because some Roman commander tells Arthur we have to fight Saxons, Woads, or whatever else, every few weeks. Can you imagine her at the wall? She isn't like Vanora, she's a village girl; every soldier in the place would be after her, and you know what would happen when we are called away."

"Then why the bloody hell did you get involved with her in the first place?" Bors slapped a fly from his horses' shoulder and grimaced. "Bed -em and forget-em, best way lad."

"For a man with ten children that isn't very convincing advice."

"Van's different."

"So is Llynya." Gawain shook his hair from his eyes irritably. "I know I shouldn't have bedded her, I know I shouldn't have gone back, and I certainly shouldn't love her. We don't always get a choice in what happens, we don't always get to choose our fates - all of us know that."

"Love her?" The big man studied his friend thoughtfully. "Does she know that?"

"No, and she won't get the chance to find out either. I've talked to Tom, he's spoken to his sister and will stay in the village for a while to keep an eye on her."

"And you'll just leave her there."

"Yes. This way she gets a chance at a family, a life. What can I offer her? Until we are free I can't even promise my protection."

"Hmmph." Bors wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Do you really think that'll be much comfort to her? I've seen the way she looks at you - the silly girl loves you for some reason which I am yet to understand."

"Really Bors? I'm hurt," Gawain said wryly. "I'm trying to keep her safe, I'm trying…"

The crash of Tristain's horse through the undergrowth made them both jump, and at the expression on the scout's face both reached for their swords.

"Arthur." The dark man was breathless and obviously worried, "you'd better see this." Wheeling his plunging horse around, he cantered back into the forest.

The big Roman unsheathed Excalibur and turned his horse towards the path Tristan had taken, motioning for the rest of the knights to follow. "Stay close," he called back, "and stay alert."

The knights followed him wordlessly into the gloom, weapons ready and muscles tensed for the threat of battle. There was nothing but the cool green light filtering through the leaves and the soft rustle of the wind in the trees. A sudden clatter startled them all, and Galahad loosed his bow, killing the rabbit that had bolted from the bracken with swift, if pointless, accuracy.

"Nice one Gal," Bors muttered, "they'll be singing songs back in Samartia about you slaying that killer rabbit. All you have to do now is kill the ravenous hedgehog of Upton and you'll be a real legend."

"Hold your tongue." The young knight kicked his horse forward, his eyes narrowed and one hand clenched around his bow. "Plenty of times I've saved that fat arse of yours, and it could have been anything. Remember that time…"

"Gods, would you both shut up!" Gawain spat, "now is not the time for this."

"I.." Galahad started, before falling silent as they entered a large clearing and saw the carnage before them. It should have been a pretty place: the light was gold and green and the trees silent in their graceful tranquillity, high above a buzzard gave a shrill cry, but that was the only sound that ruffled the serenity of the scene. Nestled amongst the golden leaves that lay like a carpet on the forest floor were the remains of several bodies, the pale gleam of bone bright in the dim light.

"Knights." Arthurs' voice was quiet and all petty grievances were forgotten as the men dismounted, calloused hands soothing their startled mounts and reaching for their weapons.

"This was not the work of men," Lancelot said softly, crouching beside the corpse of what might have once been a young woman. "Even Saxons don't do this…"

Arthur nodded, turning a body over and closing his eyes in sorrow at the ravaged face of the child that gazed back at him with blank sightless eyes. "No arrows, no knife wounds. These people have been _eaten._"

"But…" Galahad looked at the grisly scene with wide eyes, "if it was wolves then the villagers would have seen them, they would have _known."_

"Whatever did this was no wolf," Dagonet said grimly. "No pack would leave prey half-eaten like this, no wolf would be able to drag bodies this size up here."

"Then what was it?" Gawain glanced at the path behind them and at the silent forest surrounding the clearing. Nothing stirred, no Woads or monsters seemed to lurk in the shadows. "If it's not men or wolves then what is it?"

"It is our duty to find out." Arthur gently lay the child's head back on the ground and straightened up. "Whatever did this must be stopped."

Galahad and Gawain glanced at each other ruefully. Arthur was a Roman, and the troubles of a tiny village should have been inconsequential to him, yet still he seemed to feel the need to fight for the underdog, the people who would have barely escaped the notice of most in his position.

"Bloody Roman," Galahad whispered with a grim smile.

"Idealistic idiot," Gawain replied, but they both mounted their horses and kept their hands on their weapons, waiting for his orders as their brothers did the same.

**A/N Spot the Monty Python reference -couldn't resist lol! As ever, thanks to the kind reviewers of the last chapter. (Oh, and "pish" is an actual word, despite however much my computer sulks when I type it :)**


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: Nothing you recognise belongs to me.**

Llynya closed the tavern door behind her and wandered down to the well that had been dug in the field below. Louisa seemed kind, and the tavern was clean and obviously popular with the locals - not that there were many other opportunities for socialising given the isolation of the place. Grinning to herself, she thought of Charlotte's easy manner amongst the patrons. A flirtatious look here, a witty put-down there; perhaps one day she too would be so comfortable when dealing with the rough looking men who frequented the place. So far she had managed to drop a pitcher of ale over the lap of a man who had attempted to put his hand up her skirt, and broken two mugs when she had tripped over the pile of kindling in front of the fire. Not the most auspicious of starts. Rolling her tired shoulders, she idly swung the iron pail she carried and headed down the path.

It was a pretty place, for all it's dangers she thought. On the hills that rose above the houses the trees were rusting slowly under the autumn chill, the blaze of the leaves a bright herald of autumn. The sky was clear and calm, the forest crouched malevolently below it. Llynya ran her eyes over the swaying woodland, searching in vain for any sign of the knights, but it was still and quiet; there was no white flash of Arthurs' horse in the gloom, nor the gleam of sunlight on chain-mail. Sighing, she pulled the heavy bucket from the well and poured the cold water into her pail. Her little village seemed very far away, as did the events of the morning. She should not have made her feelings so obvious to Gawain - he would be gone soon enough, and despite how good it had felt, how right, the knights would not stay here once they had removed whatever threatened the village. It was bad enough to make that mistake once - to do it again would be true stupidity.

She winced as the water splashed her skirt and stopped dead in her tracks as a shrill whistle echoed through the valley. It seemed to come from the edge of the forest, and looking back Llynya smiled uncertainly at the shadowy figure at the edge of the woods. _Tom?_ Something big and black moved beside it, and Llynya dropped the bucket she was holding, drenching the ground with icy water. Whatever that was it certainly wasn't Lark. The creature was huge and moved with a sleek grace that was wholly unlike any dog she had ever seen. For a moment she watched as the light caught it's amber eyes and then she was running in utter panic, her shoes slipping in the mud and any scream she had thought to utter choked in her throat as the beast bounded towards her.

"Quick!" Before her, Charlotte shoved the tavern door open and reached out for Llynya's hand, her bright eyes wide with fear. "Come on!"

Llynya tangled her fingers into the younger girls', her shoulder glancing against the doorframe and kicked the door shut behind her.

"What is.."

"No time. We heard the whistle," the girl said breathlessly. Something heavy crashed against the door, and both girls skidded to a halt. The tavern was in uproar, the villagers scrambling outside with no thought or heed for their fellows, women dragging their frightened children behind them as they fled.

"Charlie! The lock!"

Dimly, Llynya recognised Louisa's voice and managed to make sense of what she had said. Together the two girls ran back the way they had come and shoved their shoulders against the quivering timber, Charlotte desperately fumbling at the dead-bolt. With a sharp scrape of metal against metal she managed to push it across, and whatever was trying to pound it's way through gave a low growl of frustration. The door shook once again, the slash of what sounded like claws against the wood as harsh as the breath that tore from the two girls that slowly backed away on the other side.

"The barn." Llynya said hoarsely, "we have to…"

"Too late." Charlotte grabbed Llynya's arm and pulled her towards the kitchens. "We've got no chance if we go outside now." Scrambling onto the big table beside the oven, she pulled at a loop of rope tucked under one of the ceiling supports, revealing a trapdoor. "Come on, hurry."

"What?" Looking up in bemusement, the older girl followed her, hoisting herself with difficulty into what seemed to be a rarely-used attic. Charlotte slammed the hatch down after her, shaking her head emphatically when Llynya opened her mouth to protest.

"Shut up and stay still," she whispered.

Llynya did as she said. The patrons of the tavern had obviously fled, and in the silence her breathing seemed terrifyingly loud in the darkness. Charlotte grabbed her hand tightly, her blonde hair falling over her face, her eyes watching the floor below them through the gaps in the floorboards intently. For a moment there was nothing, and Llynya relaxed slightly - perhaps whatever it was had left, perhaps it had gone to hunt other prey, perhaps…

The door crashed open, the dead-bolt flying across the room and thudding against the far wall. Llynya gripped Charlotte's hand and held her breath as the shadowy creature below them padded into the tavern. It was hard to tell what it looked like - it moved with the grace of a cat but was far bigger, it's skin seemingly both gold and black. In the silence she could hear the snort of it's breath, the soft thump of it's paws on the dirt floor. It slunk around the room, and when it's huge claws gripped the table and it lifted itself towards the ceiling, Llynya closed her eyes and bit her lip. The beast below them was not like any animal she had ever seen before - not even in stories that she had heard as a child had she ever imagined something like this. Charlottes' fingers tightened around hers, but neither of them made a sound, and when they both opened their eyes the kitchen was empty and the tavern entirely silent.

"I think it's gone." Charlotte whispered nervously. "If it had seen us then…"

"I know." Llynya let out an unsteady breath. "Do you think that everyone got out? Louisa was in there.."

"She'll be alright." The blonde girl squeezed her hand as though in search of comfort. "Best to stay put for a bit though - the others will let us know when it's time to come out. I haven't heard anyone screaming… I think we're alright…"

Llynya gave what might have been a laugh in normal circumstances. "Lovely place this isn't it? Anything else I should know about? No mad enchanters or frogs falling from the sky?"

Charlotte giggled shakily, "just old Danny, and he's usually more drunk than mad."  
"I'll watch out for him then." Watching warily through the floorboards, they huddled together and waited for any sign that it would be safe to leave the attic.

* * *

Gawain listened idly to Lancelot and Galahad arguing over some trivial dispute and tried not to think of Llynya. He was doing the right thing by leaving her in the village, he knew that, but it did not come as much comfort. He was pledged to Rome, he was pledged to this cursed country - and when Arthur told him to ride he did so, when Arthur told him to kill he picked up his axe and wielded it against whatever threatened his brothers. Home was a distant memory now, the whisper of his mothers' voice when he was young and tired a sweet dream that did not come nearly often enough. Fifteen years of bloodshed had cut deeply into such peaceful memories, and in truth he could hardly remember a time when rest was not merely an opportunity to ease his aching body and provide a brief respite from the knowledge that he was nothing more than a means to the end for men that he had only contempt for. He had buried enough knights to know that the burn of the cold air in his lungs was a reminder of what many had lost, and the luxury of feeling anything at all was something to be savoured rather than avoided. Nonetheless, it seemed a bitter victory.

"No point in dwelling on the past."

Gawain looked over at the quiet scout that had ridden up beside him with surprise. "Thanks Tristan - for someone who spends their life flitting around the countryside, you seem to have an uncanny way of turning up when you aren't wanted."

The older man shrugged, flicking his tangled hair from his eyes with unstudied grace. "You young pups are too easy to read."

"Young pups?" Gawain snorted with both outrage and amusement. " After all we've seen, all we've done? Do you really…"

"Yeah, yeah," the scout seemed bored of the conversation, his brown eyes scanning the woodland around them. "Give it a few years, then you'll understand."

"You mean I won't care." Gawain met his gaze briefly. "Don't you ever think about home, about having a wife, a family?"

For a moment something flickered in Tristans' dark eyes. "We belong to Arthur, he belongs to Rome and Rome is crumbling even as we speak. If we are lucky we will be free before it falls. That is all we can hope for. To waste your dreams on what can never be is folly." Nudging his horse forward he cantered into the dark forest without another word.

Gawain sighed. If he lived to be a hundred he would never understand that man, yet he had to admit that he had a point. His time with Llynya had been brief and sweet - a taste of what might have been had he not been pledged to Rome. He would not tell her of the coins he had given to Tom in return for his promise to protect her - and it had been difficult enough to get the man to accept them at all. As much as he wanted to take her with him, it would not be fair, and he would not leave her to the mercy of the soldiers at the wall. Perhaps when they were released from their duties, perhaps when they were free…

"Knights." Arthurs' stern voice pierced his reverie, and Gawain tightened his hold on his reins, one hand falling unconsciously to the axe in his belt. As they entered the village he could see the cause for alarm. Once again there was no sign of life, no people who would have surely welcomed them back exuberantly. _No Llynya _he thought with a sudden lurching sickness.

"The barn." Dagonet was as practical usual, swinging off his horse and drawing his sword. Looking back at Arthur, he waited for the big Roman to dismount, Excalibur shining in his hand.

"We stay together - Galahad, Tristan, free your bows. The rest of you be alert and do not let your guard down."

The knights slid from their horses and reached for their weapons. There was no need for words between them: Galahads' eyes were narrowed as he pulled back his bowstring, Bors' blades flashing in the sunlight. As silent and deadly as any pack of wolves they made their way to the big barn which they hoped sheltered the missing villagers. Nothing stirred in the surrounding buildings, although the livestock were obviously unsettled. Touching a hand to a paw-print in the mud, Tristan looked up warily. "Not a dog or wolf. Too big and too heavy."

Arthur nodded at that information and gestured for Gawain to come forward. Approaching the wooden trapdoor , Arthur called out a greeting to the people they all hoped were safely hidden underneath it. At his commanders' not Gawain pulled it back, his axe gripped tightly in his hand. Familiar faces gazed up at him with relief and terror. A baby almost smothered in its mothers' shawl started bawling, an old man muttered something about a curse, and he felt his heart sink when he realised Llynya was not among them.

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter - I hope I replied to you all, and for Phia - sorry, but if you want the story all in one go then you really will be waiting a long time! It looks like becoming an epic! Thanks for the encouragement though.**


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: Nothing you recognise belongs to me - no profit made.**

Gawain swallowed with difficulty, his mouth suddenly dry.

"Where's Llynya?" None of the villagers met his eyes, and he felt his stomach cramp with fear.

A dark haired woman shouldered her way to the front of the small crowd and met his panicked gaze with solemn brown eyes. "She and Charlotte were in the tavern when the beast attacked, they did not make it out in time."

"You mean…" Gawain took a step backwards, but was steadied by Arthur's hand on his arm.

"Did you actually see it attack them?" The Roman asked, "is there anywhere else that they could have run to?"

Dynadan put a comforting hand on the woman's shoulder, but his eyes were bright with fear for his daughter. Taking a deep breath, he looked up at the gathered knights. "This is the safest place in the village - the place where we all run to. It is possible that they found somewhere else, but…" his voice trailed off, the improbability of such a thing unspoken but all too clear.

Arthur gripped Gawain's arm and looked at the man's ashen face. "There is still hope. Nothing is certain." The blond man nodded silently, stepping back to let the people exit the pit.

"Where's Tom?" Tristan watched the people scramble up the slope with hooded eyes. "Was he with the girls?"

"No." A big red-haired man shook his head. "He took that lurcher of his off hunting this afternoon. As far as I know he hasn't come back yet."

"Perhaps he saw something," Galahad said thoughtfully. Glancing over at Arthur, the other alternative hung heavy in the air. Perhaps the beast had seen _him._

"Bors, Dagonet, Galahad, you stay here. We don't know if the village is secure yet, keep everyone in the barn and await our return. Tristan, I need you to find Tom. Search the forest, but if you come across anything unusual then come straight back - do not tackle it on your own." Tristan grunted at this, obviously a little disappointed at such clear orders, but exited the barn like a shadow without another word.

"Gawain?" The younger man turned and reached for his axe, Lancelot falling into step beside Arthur. Bors clapped the blond on the shoulder reassuringly as they exited the barn, but watched his fellow knights leave with a heavy heart. Things did not look good for Llynya and Charlotte, and for once he was glad that Vanora was so far away from him.

The horses tethered to the pig pen snorted as they passed, however aside from that the village was deathly silent. Suppressing the urge to start yelling Llynya's name and kicking in every door that might be sheltering her, Gawain clenched his teeth and stayed silent. The beast might still be lurking in the shadows - they needed to be able to hear its approach if it was.

The three knights approached the tavern warily, weapons ready and muscles tensed. The open door clunked softly against the wall in the faint breeze, but nothing else disturbed the peace. Holding up his hand to indicate caution, Arthur nodded to Lancelot who slunk to the other side of the building and peered around the side. At the shake of his head, Arthur indicated for Gawain to draw up beside him, and they both entered the tavern cautiously. The room was a wreckage of upturned tables and smashed pitchers, testament to the panic that had gripped the patrons. _No blood_, thought Gawain with a surge of hope, only to feel it wither and die when he saw the ruined back door lying on the floor in the kitchen. Deep slashes were scored in the weathered wood, and judging from the way that the bolt had been wrenched from the lock, whatever had forced it's way in had been extremely powerful. _What chance would she have had against something like that? _Taking a deep breath he steadied himself against the kitchen wall, dimly recognising Lancelot's comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Gawain?"

For a moment he thought the shout was a figment of his imagination, but it was soon joined by a relieved cry of "hey, up here," by a voice he recognised as belonging to Charlotte.

Looking up startled, the knights watched as part of the roof was tugged away to reveal a trapdoor, two frightened faces peering down at the men below.

"Llynya?" Gawain asked softly, grinning stupidly as she laughed and held out a hand to be helped down. Pulling her out her hiding place he hugged her tightly, breathing in the smell of her hair, and crushing her against his armour. At her muffled "ow," he released her and looked at her worriedly. "Are you alright? Are you hurt? What happened?"

Llynya rubbed her injured shoulder and gave a half laugh of amused relief. "I'm fine, at least I am now."

Smiling shyly, she kissed him eagerly when he bent his head to hers, holding on tight to his broad shoulders and feeling the panic drain from her.

"Excuse me. When you two have quite finished, I'd rather like to get down," Charlotte said peevishly from the attic. "My father is probably out of his mind with worry by now."

"By all means lady." Lancelot offered up his hands to her, and after giving him a distrustful look, she let herself be lifted down.

"Gods that was close," She said, sagging against the kitchen table. "I really thought we'd had it there. My whole life flashed before my eyes," she paused. "It was really boring."

Llynya snorted with shaky laughter, and even Gawain raised a smile and shook his head in disbelief.

"Lady? What happened here, what did you see?" Arthur tipped the girl's head up with a big hand when she blushed and made to curtsey. "You need not bow to me, we are here to help you, but we must know what we are facing."

"It was a … a…" Charlotte looked over at Llynya helplessly. "It was big. Bigger than a wolf or boar."

"Definitely not a dog," Llynya agreed. "The way it moved was almost, well cat - like."

"You think the village is being terrorised by an overgrown house cat?" Lancelot gave a smirk. "All we have to do is set Lark on it and the problem is solved."

"You didn't see it," Charlotte snapped. "That was no house cat. It was a great big, fierce…. Thing." She finished lamely.

"My apologies lady, I did not mean to cause offence," Lancelot replied smoothly, giving a rakish smile to the girl beside him. "We will solve this mystery, you have our word on that."

Gawain looked at Arthur and rolled his eyes, and even the stoic commander had to bite back a smile. Even at times like this Lancelot was totally incorrigible.

"Good." Charlotte said haughtily, although Llynya could not help noticing that she was blushing slightly.

Together they left the tavern, Gawain gripping Llynya's arm in one hand and his axe in the other, Charlotte sticking reluctantly close to Lancelot - obviously still intimidated by the Roman officer that led the way. Nothing stirred in the empty houses, nothing leapt from the shadows to attack them. A couple of piglets squealed as they chased each other around their pen, but of the beast there was no sign.

"Looks like it's gone," Lancelot remarked. "The livestock seemed to have settled down at any rate."

"We shouldn't assume anything," Arthur replied. "We take the girls back to the others and then we'll make a full patrol. I'm not sending anyone out until we're sure."

"You're sending us out," Gawain pointed out ruefully.

"What's the matter Gawain? Scared of a little kitty cat?" Lancelot said jokingly, "just chuck it a ball of yarn and you can make your escape."

Charlotte scowled. "I've already told you it isn't a…"

"Charlotte!" Her retort was cut off by the joyful yell that came from the barn. Charging from the barn, Dynaden raced over to them and swept his daughter into his arms. "Oh Gods I was so worried, I thought…"

"It's alright, I'm alright." Extracting herself from her father's embrace, Charlotte gave a wobbly smile and tried to pretend that she wasn't crying. "We were lucky. Is everyone else safe?"

Dynadan looked at Llynya apologetically. "Tom is missing." As he saw her eyes widen in shock, he hastened to comfort her. "He went out hunting before the beast came, chances are that he's wandering the forest with that dog of his."

"Lark, her name is Lark," Llynya said numbly. "We can't leave him out there, not with that thing roaming around. I have to find him, I have to…"

"You have to stay safe." Gawain said firmly, his blue eyes solemn as he hugged her to him. "Tristan's out there looking for him as we speak, and nothing escapes that deadly bastard. He'll find him, don't worry."

Llynya nodded mutely, and took strength from the conviction of his words and his solid bulk beside her. Tom had saved her life, Tom had only come here because of her - if anything had happened to him….

Ushering the two girls into the barn, Gawain let Llynya go with another kiss and a promise to return soon and followed Arthur, Lancelot and Bors back into the village. Charlotte was met with a melee of hugs and relieved whispers once her father had relinquished her, and feeling a little out of place and more than a little alone, Llynya stood awkwardly at the edge of the crowd. A big hand on her shoulder made her jump, and turning she found herself looking up at Dagonet's scarred face.

"Are you alright Llynya?" he asked kindly. Despite his intimidating appearance there was warmth in his eyes and genuine concern in his voice. "We were worried."

"I'm fine thank you." Llynya smiled at the big man, grateful for his thoughtfulness. "Lucky that Charlotte was with me. That's one more person who's saved my life - I'm running up blood debts faster than Lark catches rabbits."

"I don't think any of them mind." He gave a rare smile, "for someone so hopeless at fighting, you certainly have a talent for survival."

"It's luck that's all." She narrowed her eyes in mock annoyance. "Anyway, I'm not completely hopeless at fighting - I sliced that Woad pretty badly remember?"

"Was that the Woad that would have beheaded you had Bors not stepped in."

Llynya wrinkled her nose. "Point taken, I'm hopeless at fighting. Are you on guard duty?"

"Yes, someone has to keep an eye on this lot, just in case the others miss something."

"I'll keep you company if you like - two pairs of eyes are better than one." At his sceptical look she laughed. "It's alright, if there's any danger I'll find something to cower behind - I'll leave the fighting to you and the others."

"Very well." Moving to the entrance of the barn they stood in companionable silence, scanning the surroundings for any sign of danger.

Oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

The knights searched the village carefully, but aside from a few strange paw-prints and the scratches on the tavern door, there was nothing to be found.

"I think it's gone." Galahad looked at the surrounding countryside thoughtfully, "it could have gone anywhere."

"Exactly." Bors ran a hand over his rough head and sighed. "Not exactly going to be easy to defend this place is it? Can't you get the Romans to knock up another wall down here Arthur?"

Arthur gave a faint smile but his eyes were troubled. "The girls described a big cat-like creature. That is not something that I have ever heard of dwelling in these lands."

"Yeah, well they were scared weren't they? Difficult to know what they saw." Bors shrugged and squinted towards the forest. "Speaking of fierce creatures, here comes Tristan."

The dark knight crossed the meadow at a slow canter, and with a collective feeling of relief the knights watched Tom lope out of the trees behind him, Lark bounding at his side.

Tristan pulled up his horse and looked at Arthur. "No sign of any beast, or Woads for that matter. Tom has something you'll want to hear though." Sliding off his horse he waited for the hunter to catch up to the group.

"Tom, it's good to see that you're safe," Arthur said. "Tristan said that you have information."

"Aye, but I'm not sure what good it'll be - not sure if I believe it myself." Tom took a moment to catch his breath before continuing. "What I saw, what I'm sure I saw shouldn't be here. It doesn't make any sense."

"Are you going to tell us or should we guess?" asked Lancelot, ignoring Arthur's warning look.

Tom looked at the knight irritably before continuing. "I've only ever seen one once before, and that was back in Rome, a long time ago. Big cats, they used them in the gladiatorial arenas sometimes; Tigers I think they are called. Very big, very fierce - my father took me to the games in the colosseum when I was a boy, I never forgot it. Men ripped to pieces for the amusement of the crowd."

"But this isn't Rome, we don't have any such thing here." Gawain looked at Tom in confusion. "If you are right then how did it get here, and why?"

"Don't ask me lad, I'm just telling you what I saw, and If I'm right then that village is in a hell of a lot of trouble."

Arthur looked at Tom thoughtfully. "I have heard of the creature of which you speak, but have never seen one. Would it be big enough to drag a full grown man up into the forest?"

"Yes, and without much effort. Make no mistake, these are dangerous animals - true predators, and in this place they could vanish into the forest before you even knew they had been there."

"What of the man with the whistle though? Dynadan said that before the beast struck they heard a whistle. How could someone control a creature like that?" Galahad asked in puzzlement, "surely it would attack him too."

Arthur sighed wearily, "it's up to us to find out and stop them. The village is as secure as it can be at the moment, we will have to discuss this with the people." Turning back towards the barn they made their way cautiously down the main street, their minds whirling with questions.

**A/N Chapter thirteen - unlucky for some lol! Gold stars to everyone who guessed the identity of the beast. Let me know what you think if you are inclined to do so : )**


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: Nothing you recognise belongs to me.**

Llynya grinned and could not help but fidget with relief when she saw the knights approaching the barn. Ignoring Dagonet's amused smile, she let Gawain pick her up and kiss her thoroughly - heedless of Bors' laughter and Charlottes' smirk.

Alright?" he brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear and she nodded silently, letting him take her hand and lead her back towards the others.

Arthur stood in the centre of the crowd imposing and solemn, Tom and the knights flanking him. Scanning the nervous faces of the villagers he explained what Tom had seen, and asked if any one had ever seen a creature that matched that description. The bemusement etched on their faces made it clear that they had not.

"A… tiger?" Dynadan looked confused. "Never have I heard of such a thing. How would a giant cat get from Rome to here? Can they swim across the sea?"

"They aren't native to Rome," Tom replied, "merely used as sport in giant arenas. There were dealers who sometimes came to Rome - traders from the silk roads. Often they brought strange animals with them, creatures captured or bartered for from lands I do not even know the names of. If there is truly a tiger out there then it was brought here."

"Brought here?" A middle aged woman with sharp eyes and pale hair looked at them in confusion. "For what purpose?"

"That we do not yet know, Lady." Arthur looked at the huddled people in front of him seriously. "You have my word that my knights and I will find out though. The village is secure at present, you may go back to your homes. Be on your guard and if you see or hear anything suspicious then make it known immediately to either me or one of the knights."

"You hear that everyone?" Dynadan looked around at his fellow villagers. "No-one wanders off into the forest and we keep together. If you are afraid to be alone then go to the tavern." He gave a questioning look to Louisa who nodded her consent.

"All are welcome there," she said, "and I have plenty of floor space if you do not wish to return to your homes."

"Then it is settled." Stepping back, Arthur motioned for his knights to let the people pass, smiling slightly as a little girl grinned up at him with an expression of awed wonder.

Llynya stayed with the knights, although she did squeeze Charlottes' hand as she passed. Feeling a nudge against her leg she looked down to see Lark settle down beside her, and bent to scratch her silky head.

"Knights, tonight we rest. We cannot go out hunting blindly, and there is still much we have to learn about this mystery. Bors, Dagonet - you will take the first watch, Lancelot and Galahad you will relieve them at moonrise. I will arrange with Dynadan to choose lookouts from his own people - the more surveillance we have the better. We cannot afford to be caught unawares again. The rest of you, clean -up, settle your horses, but be in the tavern before nightfall; we have plans to discuss."

Bors and Dagonet nodded and set off down to the path leading to the meadow, their big frames companionably silent as they idly checked their weapons. Llynya watched them go and raised a hand in farewell as Dagonet turned to nod to her.

"Hey," Gawains hair tickled her cheek as he bent to whisper in her ear. "Do I have competition for your affections?"

Llynya grinned. "Would it bother you if you did?"

"Wench," he muttered, grabbing her hand and setting off towards the little house that had been allocated. "You've been spending too much time with Charlotte."

Laughing, she let herself be pulled along beside him, blushing slightly as Lancelot rolled his eyes at the pair of them.

"Make sure to be at the tavern by nightfall. I'll sort out your horse for you -try not to get too… distracted," he said with a smirk

Gawains reply was short, to the point, and not entirely polite.

Pushing open the door to the cottage, Gawain let Llynya through before closing it behind them. The fire had subsided to embers, the bed still rumpled from that morning. Looking at it, Llynya wondered at how much had happened since then, and jumped a little when Gawain put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her back towards him. Resting her head against his chest, she put her hands over the fingers laced over her stomach and sighed contentedly.

"I thought I'd lost you today," he said quietly.

"I thought I _was _lost," She replied. "If Charlotte hadn't been there…" Forcing back the terrible memory of the beast that should have by rights taken her life that afternoon, she pulled away from Gawain's embrace.

"You need a bath." She smiled, pretending to wrinkle her nose in disgust.

"Aye Llynya," he chuckled, "are you offering to give me one?"

Giving him a haughty look, she nonetheless noticed the bowl of water and washcloth she had used that morning in the corner of the room. Her mouth twitching in a mischievous smile, she tugged Gawain towards the bed and bade him sit.

"Llynya? What.."

She shushed him with pretend irritation, fumbling at the laces of his jerkin. "You are not fit to be seen in polite company - if you won't clean yourself up then I will have to do it for you."

"Polite company?" Gawain asked with amusement, obligingly raising his arms so that she could pull his shirt over his head.

"Well… Company at any rate," Llynya acknowledged, placing the water bowl on the small table beside the bed. Dipping the cloth into the cool water she carefully wiped the dirt from his face, laughing as he gasped at the shock of the coldness against his skin.

"Don't be such a baby," she whispered, although she could not help a shudder of her own when one big hand reached around to the small of her back, the other lightly caressing her hip. Biting her lip in concentration, she pretended to be oblivious to the blue eyes watching her intently; running the cloth down his neck and soothing the marks where his armour had rubbed against his skin. Tracing the lines of his collar bones and running her fingers through the soft golden fur upon his chest, she cleaned away the dirt and sweat, her chest constricting at his soft sigh of contentment. His belly tightened when she swept the cool water across it, the flex of muscles against her fingers causing her own muscles to tense, and she swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. Pushing his hands away from her gently, she scrambled onto the bed behind him. His tangled hair cascaded over his broad shoulders, and sweeping it to one side, she continued her ministrations. Rubbing the tired muscles and seeking to tell him everything she dare not say with gentle fingertips and silent tenderness. She bent to kiss the puckered scar of an old arrow wound and muttered a brief prayer to herself; _Gods_ _keep him safe, keep him whole. _He shuddered and turned around, knocking the water to the floor and pulling her onto his lap. Burying her face into his neck, she felt his rough hands run up and down her sides, his soft lips against her shoulder and reluctantly pulled away.

"It's getting dark," she said quietly. He looked at her for a moment and she felt her heart twist with a strange mixture of joy and sorrow.

"Aye it is." Giving her a chaste kiss on the lips, he released her and reached for his shirt. "Are you working tonight?"

"I don't know. I suppose so." Llynya suddenly realised that she probably should have gone straight to the tavern to see if she was needed. "I should go and find out." Turning towards the door, she was pulled back before she had taken two paces.

"Gods woman." Gawain looked at her in frustration. "We'll go together. There might be guards watching the village, but it's far from safe out there. You've already scared me half to death today - I'm not having you make a habit of it."

Llynya rolled her eyes. "Fine, I'll wait for you." Running her fingers through her hair and smoothing her skirt, she did her best to make herself presentable. She would probably be expected to serve at the bar tonight, and she could only hope that she would do a better job of it this time. To fail in front of a group of villagers she did not know was embarrassing - to make an idiot of herself in front of the knights would be beyond humiliating.

"Ready?" Gawain held out a hand towards her, and Llynya took it with a small smile and a nod.

The street was almost deserted, although the silhouettes flickering behind the fire-lit windows prevented the village from seeming as desolate as it had been before. Looking around nervously, Llynya scanned the dark shadows. While it was comforting to know that Bors and Dagonet were out there somewhere keeping watch, she could not help but worry for them. Gawain squeezed her hand reassuringly and she smiled. Trust him to anticipate her fears.

Entering the tavern, Llynya almost took a step back. If she had thought it had been busy before, then that was nothing compared to the mayhem that greeted her now. It seemed as though half the village were crammed into the big room. Children scrambled beneath the tables, men drank and gambled, their women either perched on their laps or gossiping in groups together. In the far corner, Arthur and the other knights sat around a table drinking from a pitcher of ale and looking more relaxed than she had ever seen them, despite the intent conversation they were engaged in.

"Llynya!" Charlotte hurried towards her, batting away the hand of an inebriated young man as she did so. "Praise the gods - do we ever need your help tonight." Her hair was escaping it's braid and her cheeks were flushed. "It's a mad house in here."

"So it would seem." Letting go of Gawain's hand, she smiled at him and let herself be pulled back towards the kitchens, the blonde girl chattering away as they made their way through the throng.

Louisa had somehow managed to maintain her aura of serene calm, despite the bedlam around her. Sending Charlotte and Llynya back out in to the melee laden with pitchers of ale and a tray of rough earthenware mugs, she instructed them to refill any empty glasses and tied a leather pouch around Llynya's waist for the money she was to take in payment.

Biting her tongue in concentration, she did her best not to trip over the children scrambling around her feet and poured the drinks as carefully as she could. Taking the coins that were shoved towards her with as confident a smile she could muster, she could not help but feel a little proud at Charlotte's encouraging nod. Turning swiftly at Louisa's call, the large mug she was holding hit a dark curly head with an audible _clunk. _With great reluctance she lowered her eyes to the man that she had just hit and found herself looking into Arthur Castus' green eyes. "Oh Gods…" she gasped, "I'm sorry, I didn't…" Panicking she gave a half curtsey and promptly poured a small river of ale into his lap. Frozen with mortification she willed the beast to make an appearance, or at least a hole to open up in the ground and swallow her.

"It's quite alright Llynya." Arthur patted her arm comfortingly, "I was in your way - it's my fault."

Llynya opened her eyes tentatively, but could see nothing but kindness in the Roman commander's face. Beside him Lancelot smirked and Galahad was almost crying with laughter. Blushing so hard that she felt her face was aflame, she hastily thrust the now half -full mug onto the table and turned to flee. Gawain grabbed her wrist and pulled her onto his lap before she could escape. Giving her a quick kiss he whispered "you're doing fine," before releasing her with pat to the bottom. Glaring at him crossly, Llynya went back to the kitchens, her embarrassment forgotten for a moment.

"Bloody men." Charlotte said as she hurried up beside her. "Think they're all gods gift to women."

"Llynya laughed and nodded her agreement. "You're going to have to teach me some of your put-downs - I have a feeling I'm going to need them if I'm going to be working here."

The younger girl grinned. "By all means, although if all else fails a swift kick to the crotch always seems to work."

Laughing, they scampered back to refill the pitchers, the beast forgotten for a moment - the danger ignored for a few brief hours.

**A/N Kind of a fluffy chapter, scene setting really - more about the beastie in the next one. Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter - much appreciated.**


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: nothing you recognise belongs to me.**

Llynya could not remember ever being so tired. Her back and shoulders ached from the heavy pitchers she had carried to and fro from the kitchen, and her hair was escaping its braid, flopping into her shadowed eyes. Several people were curled up in the main room. They were either reluctant to go back to their homes or too drunk to do so. The knights had kept relatively sober; after all it was they who would have to fight should trouble arise. Eager to get whatever rest they could, they had left fairly early; Gawain kissing her on the cheek and making her promise not to walk home alone. Wiping the last mug clean, she placed it on the shelf above the work top and picked up the bucket of dirty water. The back door had been mended by a couple of young men; their services acquired with the promise of free ale and a decent meal. Looking at the patched doorway, Llynya swallowed nervously. There were lookouts that would warn the villagers of any sign of the beast, but she could not help but feel a little apprehensive.

"Want some company?" Charlotte wandered into the hallway, untying her money belt and tossing it onto the table. "Probably safer if we both go together."

"Thanks." Llynya smiled at the younger girl. "Nothing like a savage monster to make a girl jumpy."

"Very true." Unlatching the door, Charlotte let Llynya pass, her eyes scanning the darkness. "Looks safe enough."

"It looked safe before," the other girl retorted. "Back in my village the only thing we had to watch for was old drunk Charlie with the wandering hands, or Leo bringing out his lyre whenever he fancied that he was in love."

"He was a bad singer?" asked Charlotte curiously.

"Terrible." Llynya shook her head with a mixture of amusement and sorrow. "You have not known torment until you have been forced to listen to a twenty verse ballad comparing your physical attributes to those of wildfowl."

"Wildfowl?" Charlotte hoisted the bucket from the well and flexed her cold fingers, "was he trying to insult you or woo you?"

"Woo." Llynya giggled a little, and although her heart ached at their loss, it was nice to get a chance to speak of those who had been an important part of her life. "The grace of a swan that floats like a ghost through dark water, the nobility of the turkey who gazes with majestic wattle towards the horizon," she intoned gravely. "The curved form of a duck that paddles merrily in the pond." Shaking her head ruefully, she watched Charlotte snort with laughter. "There were another nineteen chapters of that. Luckily the memory of his poetry lasted considerably longer than his infatuation."

"Thank the gods for small mercies." Looking up sharply, the blonde girl put out a hand to shush her companion. The thud of footsteps came from behind them, the shadows of two dark figures looming against the tavern wall. "Who is there?" Charlotte called out, unable to hide the tremble in her voice.

"A wolf, or at least that seems to be your preferred title for me lady." Lancelot slipped from the darkness, his eyes glinting with amusement. "I had not thought you to be so easily rattled, Charlotte."

"You slink around in the shadows when there is a savage beast wandering the forest, and you are surprised that I am nervous?" Narrowing her eyes in annoyance, she shoved her hands into her pockets and nodded at Galahad who was watching the conversation with interest.

Lancelot laughed. "Peace Charlotte, Gal and I have come to escort you and Llynya home. We are taking over the watch and wanted to make sure you were both safe."

"Oh." Charlotte looked a little embarrassed. "That's umm… you don't have to…"

"It's very kind of you both," Llynya said politely, taking pity on her friend and curtseying to the two knights. "We are both grateful for your concern."

"Gawain'd have my head if I didn't." Yawning, Galahad patted Llynya's shoulder and gestured towards the cobbled street. "We should get going now. Bors and Dag are probably freezing their arses off out there."

"Ah, it'll be our turn soon enough." Offering his hand to Charlotte, Lancelot could not help but smile when she took it tentatively. "Unless the ladies wish to offer us the warmth of their beds, it's going to be a cold night ahead for us Galahad."

"Not in this lifetime," Charlotte muttered, but she did not let go of his hand.

* * *

"Thank-you." Giving Charlotte a swift hug and smiling at the two dark knights, Llynya bid the three of them farewell and quietly unlatched the door to the house that she and Gawain had been allocated. With hesitant steps she crossed the short distance to the bedroom and pushed open the door. The fire was little more that embers, and the light it gave off was dancing over the rough stone walls and gilding the slumped body on the bed. Llynya smiled at the scene before her. Fast asleep, one muscular arm flung over his head, Gawain looked almost boyish - the worry and torment that shadowed his face was erased by slumber. There was still a decent pile of wood by the hearth, and kicking off her shoes and unlacing her dress, she carefully banked the fire and watched the logs hiss and spit as they were consumed by flames. Clad only in her shift, she padded over to the bed and snuggled down beside Gawain, burying her face in his hair and holding him close when he unconsciously reached out for her.

* * *

It seemed that she had only just fallen asleep when she was awakened by an insistent hand shaking her shoulder.

"What?" Opening her eyes, she blinked blearily at the big man beside her. "'s night, and I'm gonna sleep."

"It's morning I'm afraid, love, and Charlotte is waiting for you."

"Oh." Flopping back onto the bed, Llynya yawned. "I should get dressed."

"No hurry." Gawain looked at her with amusement. "I'd imagine you'd get better tips if you go to work in your shift, but it probably isn't a very good idea."

"No, I suppose not." Rubbing her eyes, she shoved the tangled mass of her hair over her shoulder, wincing at her attempts to run her fingers through it. "Is there any news?"

"Nothing." Gawain crossed the room and picked up the brush that Charlotte had left before. "It was a quiet night. I'll walk you to the tavern. Arthur is going to talk to some of the villagers: perhaps one of them has seen something or has information that will help us."

"Perhaps," Llynya said thoughtfully, pulling her dress over her head. "Someone somewhere must have an idea of what is going on."

"We'll find out soon enough." Smiling, he brushed his fingers over her cheek and sat down beside her.

"You look like you've been dragged through a hedge backwards."

She laughed and briefly leaned into his touch. "Nay Sir, merely attacked by a beast, groped by drunken men and managed to pour ale over your commander."

"Ah, well, that's alright then." Tugging the brush through her unruly hair, he ran his fingers through it

thoughtfully. "Any trouble and you come to me."

Llynya wrinkled her nose. "Any trouble and I'll go to Charlotte. I have a feeling that the men of the village are more afraid of her tongue than your axe."

"You are probably right." Releasing her, Gawain reached for his armour, buckling the supple leather hauberk securely. "Perhaps Lancelot could teach her a few manners."

"I don't think it's manners that Lancelot is interested in tutoring her in. His interests tend to be more umm… carnal from what I've heard." Twisting her hair into a bun, Llynya watched Gawain tuck his axe into his belt. "They don't seem to like each other much anyway."

"You didn't like me much when we first met either." Gawain raised an eyebrow at the dark-haired girl.

"I've met Woads less defensive than you were that day."

"Well you and Bors were rather intimidating, and I wasn't sure of your intentions." Slipping past the blond knight, she watched him close the door behind them.

"I assure you that my intentions were entirely honourable," Gawain said calmly. "But what can a man do when a beautiful woman tries to seduce him?"

"Me? Seduce _you?"_ Llynya batted his arm with her palm. "Your brain has been addled by battle Sir Knight - I was the reluctant party in this from what I recall."

"Reluctant?" He raised an eyebrow and watched her blush as she met his calm blue eyes. "I had hoped that you gained at least a little pleasure from our time together."

"Don't flatter yourself," she grumbled, pushing open the door to the tavern. "That was then; things are different now." But she kissed him back when he lowered his mouth to hers, and watched him walk over to the rest of the knights before heading to the kitchen.

* * *

"Quiet!" Dynadan looked at the gathered people and attempted to make himself heard. Most of the inhabitants of the village were gathered outside the barn; either they were perched on the pig-pen fence or milling around restlessly. Small children ducked and weaved around their parents' legs, and the air was heavy with anticipation.

Llynya hoisted herself onto the gate next to Charlotte and watched the scene with interest. Gawain had smiled at her, and Dagonet nodded politely. Lancelot had given a wicked grin and a wink to both girls, much to Llynya's amusement and Charlotte's irritation. The knights stood calm and imposing behind the village elder, Arthur's raised hand hushing the chatter almost immediately. Nodding to the older man, Arthur let Dynadan speak first.

"Right then. No prizes for guessing why I called this meeting." Glaring at a small boy who had skidded into a fencepost and burst into noisy tears, he scratched his head wearily. "We've got a beast on the loose - a…tiger." Glancing back at the Roman commander, he continued when he nodded in verification. "Now this isn't something that is native to Britain - it's even unusual in the Roman arenas. That means that it must have been brought here by someone, probably the same person who blows the whistle before it attacks. If we can find the man then we can find the beast, and with the help of the knights here, put an end to this."

"Easier said than done," muttered a young man at the front of the crowd.

"Indeed, Cador, and that is why we must all work together." Dynadan sighed with exasperation. "A beast of that size must have to be kept _somewhere_, and somewhere within walking distance for the man who accompanies it. This isn't an animal that could have been transported without questions being raised, or people remembering it. This is no demon or spirit - it is a flesh and blood creature, and one that must have been kept nearby for some time now."

"Then why's it only been attacking recently?" a young woman asked hesitantly. "None of us have seen anything like what you've described being transported round these parts. We'd have known if there was wouldn't we?" She looked around at her fellow villagers who nodded and mumbled in agreement. "News travels fast, and I ain't heard anything about a triger or tiger or whatever you are on about."

"Which would suggest that it is not a recent arrival to these parts," Arthur said quietly, his low voice silencing the unrest. "Tigers were used in Roman sport. I know that there are no Roman camps here, but have there been any near here in the past?"

The crowd muttered amongst themselves, seemingly unable to come to a decision.

"There was a camp." The voice was bright and childlike, pushing himself to the front of the crowd, a man in his late twenties looked eagerly at the big Roman.

"Balan…" A woman reached out to restrain him, but the young man shook off her hand.

"Years ago it was now, but there was a fortress to the north. Romans lived there- lot's of them. Gavin and I used to play there sometimes…" As though suddenly realizing that he had said too much, Balan lowered his head and looked guilty. "'Course we weren't supposed to, but we didn't do any harm, honest."

Arthur looked at the man thoughtfully. It was obvious that he was half witted, but he had no reason to doubt the truth of his words - and it seemed strange that the other villagers were so reticent when it came to talking about the Roman camp. He had a faint memory of a large settlement being posted around these parts, a high ranking Roman general and a substantial number of soldiers. He had assumed that they had been drafted elsewhere, but the sudden tension and the way in which the villagers seemed suddenly restless made him wonder if perhaps there was another explanation. "Is this true?" He asked Dynadan.

The man ran his hand through his hair and did not meet his eyes. "Aye, it's true. There was a fort in the forest years ago, but there's nothing left now. Woads attacked and slaughtered most of the poor souls there. The rest of 'em fled as far as I can tell. Rome never came back to bother us, and we just let nature take back what was hers to begin with. Not much left but ruins now."

"I see." Arthur looked at Balin thoughtfully. "There were no survivors? No-one stayed in the area?"

"No." He shook his head and looked at the Roman commander with guileless blue eyes. "Even Tauleas left or was…" He looked down and bit his lip. "I liked Tauleas; he had puppies, he liked to play in the forest. Didn't matter that I wasn't Roman, he liked the wild."

"Tauleas?" Arthur looked at Dynadan questioningly. "One of the soldiers?"

"No." The village elder shook his head sadly. "He was the son of the General. We found the bodies of his mother and father; there were wolves already feeding on the carcasses when we arrived. I assume he was…" His voice trailed off, but his meaning was clear enough.

"I see." Arthur opened his mouth to speak, but before he could utter another word, Bors' bellow rang out from the village.

"Artorius!" Shoving his way through the crowd, the burly man slid to a halt before his commander. "We've got trouble," he panted."

"What do you mean?"

The low whistle that sang out from the forest halted any other questions, and the crowd erupted into chaos. Striding towards the meadow, Arthur drew his sword and looked back at his knights.

"It seems that our prey has come to find us after all."

"How considerate", muttered Galahad, shouldering his bow. "It'll be a pleasure to put an end to this racket."

Drawing their weapons, the knights watched the people hurry in to the barn and waited for the beast.

**A/N: A big thank-you to Priestess of the Myrmidon for beta reading this for me. Thanks to everyone who read/reviewed the last chapter.**


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: Nothing you recognise belongs to me. (Hell if they were mine I'd have better things to do than write fan fiction lol)**

The burly knight's words had an instant effect on both the villagers and his companions. Racing into the barn, men and women scrambled into the hiding place, children grabbed and swung into the protective embrace of their mothers, teenaged boys hesitating as though they wished to fight before being dragged into safety by their fathers. Tom ran to the trapdoor and flung it open, reaching out to help the older people down the slope, Lark barking anxiously at his heels. Llynya jumped off the gate she had been sitting on and let Charlotte tug her towards the sanctuary, looking around wildly for Gawain. She met his eyes briefly and felt the push of his fingers guiding her towards the barn as he raced past her towards his horse, and nodded at his muttered "Go". Stumbling down the steep incline, her hand clenched tight in Charlotte's, Llynya hugged the other girl and prayed for the safety of the blond knight and his companions. As the last of the people scrabbled down the dirt slope, she found herself almost knocked into Balan. His eyes were sorrowful, his bottom lip caught beneath his teeth as though he were struggling not to cry out. A moment later the trapdoor slammed down and everything was lost to darkness.

* * *

The knights were mounted in moments, swords unsheathed and eyes narrowed, they galloped towards the meadow. Their prey might be unusual, but foe was foe and battle was battle, and this was a dance that they knew all too well. Thundering through the main street, they veered around the tavern and onto the smaller track that led to the forest and the land before it. Pulling up sharply, Arthur motioned for his men to halt. Barely holding his plunging gelding, Galahad looked around warily.

"Where the bloody hell is it?"

No-one answered for a moment. In the mild morning light the long grass rippled and swayed in the faint breeze, wildflowers bright within its depths. The sun had gilded the trees and illuminated the forest - it was a beautiful place, and not one that held any promise of malevolent beasts.

"We move on." Arthur's eyes were narrowed as he surveyed the scene. "Tristan, Dagonet; swing left but pull up before you reach the forest. Bors, Gawain; swing right. Lancelot, Galahad spread out beside me. Whatever it is could be waiting to ambush us in the grass. Be alert and be careful. If you see anything unusual then you call out. Understood?" He looked back at his men, his green eyes flashing, and nodded at the murmured assent of the knights. "Then we ride." Kicking his grey stallion into a canter, Lancelot and Galahad urged their mounts either side of him, the other knights sweeping out towards the further corners of the meadow.

Gawain pushed his mount forward, nodding at Bors and keeping his horse level with the older knight's bay. The grass was almost knee deep and his gelding struggled a little, unused to such dense foliage. Out the corner of his eye Gawain could see his brothers and commander racing through the meadow, their weapons glinting in the sunlight and their expressions grim. He scanned the surroundings, his fingers tight upon the axe in his hand, but saw nothing. They were nearly at the edge of the forest, andglancing at the dark trees ahead he pulled his horse up, Bors following suit beside him.

"Bloody wild goose chase," the big knight muttered, "the sooner the better we get out of this place the better. Tiger, my arse."

Gawain shrugged, his eyes roving over the land around them. "If you've got a better explanation for…"

His words were cut off abruptly by a sharp cry, and looking around both knights saw an eruption of flailing horse legs and orange fur struggling in the grass at the far end of the meadow. Tristan and Dagonet were already racing towards the fallen mount, Arthur's sword swinging down, only to miss it's mark when his horse leapt away in alarm at the beast bounding towards it. Galahad fired an arrow, but obviously failed to hit his target, both hands having to abandon the bow in order to hold his terrified mount. Tristan loosed his bow, his sharp eyes allowing him to aim despite the distance, and was rewarded by a harsh snarling cry as his arrow hit the animal in the shoulder. Whirling around, the beast bared it's teeth, and prepared to pounce as Tristan readied another arrow. Thundering across the ground, Gawain flipped his axe into his hand and kicked his feet out of the stirrups, readying himself to roll to the ground. He slid to the side and let himself fall onto the long grass, barely noticing the mis-aimed arrow that ruffled his hair as it thudded into the ground beside him. For a brief moment the dazed thought flashed through his mind : _Tristan missed? Tristan never misses…. _Before he managed to scramble to his feet he saw the scout slumped in the saddle, an arrow protruding from his shoulder and his left arm useless. Before him crouched the beast: eyes like wild fire, it's muscles bunched and rippling, it's tail whipping back and forth. _Death is beautiful, _he thought dimly, raising his axe. The sudden whistle that cut through the melee, caused both the beast and Gawain to hesitate. Bors thudded to the ground beside him, blades flashing, but before either he or Gawain had a chance to attack the tiger it turned tail and fled. Racing through the grass like a comet, it had vanished into the forest before either Galahad or Dagonet had a chance to catch up with it. Both knights pulled up their horses before they reached the trees; there were too many opportunities for an ambush and no telling if there would be any back-up if there were. Turning their horses they cantered back to their comrades, glancing behind them at the silent forest that rustled and whispered and seemed utterly innocent as to the evil it concealed.

Gawain and Bors scrambled over to Lancelot, both afraid of what they might find. The black horse was obviously dying; it's neck was slick with blood, it's legs twitching feebly. Lancelot was trapped beneath it, his eyes closed and face pale. Muttering a prayer to the gods, Gawain swiftly put the horse out of it's misery and with Bors's help dragged the limp knight from beneath it's broken body.

"Lancelot?" The dark knight did not stir, his eyes remained stubbornly closed, his face slack. Bending down, Gawain felt the faint whisper of his breath upon his cheek and looked up at Bors and Arthur who had abandoned their mounts and fallen to their knees beside the fallen knight.

"He's still alive."

Dagonet pulled Tristan from his saddle, his big hands surprisingly gentle as he examined his wounded friend. The arrow had plunged deep but was not life-threatening, the scout's eyes still bright with both pain and anger. Whoever had shot the arrow had done so from the trees, and hoisting Tristan into a sitting position, he looked warily at the forest behind them. Not daring to remove the arrow while they were in such a vulnerable position, he draped Tristan over the pommel of his saddle, inwardly apologising for his lack of care and wincing himself at the scout's sharp intake of breath and muttered curse.

"We should go," he said quietly, his stern features sharpened by worry. "Arthur?"

Tearing his eyes away from the limp body of his second in command and confidant, Arthur nodded. Two of his knights were injured, the horses were threatening to bolt and their prey was long since gone. Inwardly he cursed himself. To ride against a tiger - of course the horses would have been terrified. Their riders had weapons and understanding - the horses had nothing but the scent of an utterly alien animal, it was no wonder that they had panicked. Two men down, two of his few remaining knights, and by God he would not lose them to his stupidity.

"Bors, Galahad, stay at the edge of the meadow. Keep watch and signal if there is any sign of trouble." Noting the fierce expressions on the knight's faces, he emphasised his last words. "We attack together or not at all."

Both men nodded, tempering their anger and worry with the well practiced mask of duty. Gawain helped shift Lancelot's limp body onto Arthur's saddle and swung up onto his own horse. Nodding at Bors and Galahad, he kicked his horse into a gallop and followed Arthur and Dagonet as they raced back to the village.

* * *

Huddled and frightened in the darkness, the villagers waited for either the return of the knights or the re-appearance of the beast. No-one spoke, indeed no-one seemed to dare to breathe - even the babes in arms seemed to realise the danger and hushed their usual squalling. Squashed against Charlotte, Llynya could feel the younger girl trembling and squeezed her fingers in reassurance. Had it been minutes or hours since they had scrambled to safety? How was there any way to tell?

"Horses!" A male voice from somewhere at the front shouted in excitement, only to be quieted swiftly, but it was true, Llynya realised. The sound of hoof beats was of more than one horse, but other than that she could not tell. No-one seemed eager to leave their grubby sanctuary, and suddenly determined she tried to push through the crowd to the trapdoor, her heart pounding. It must be the knights. Had they caught the beast? were they unhurt? was Gawain safe?

Tom shoved open the heavy door before she got very far, and she was forced to close her eyes with a wince as the sudden light slashed through the darkness. Blinking, she shoved her way through the crowd of people, muttering apologies, Charlotte following close behind. Tom grabbed her arm before she reached the slope however, and prevented her from going any further.

"Best wait lass," he murmured, "let's see what's what first."

Glancing down at the sinuous feel of his lurcher brushing against her leg, Llynya noticed that Tom held his hunting knife in his hand, and that the normally friendly dog was tense and obviously awaiting a command from her master.

"Do you think…" Her voice trailed off as Arthur's silhouette loomed above them. His face was grim and his voice harsh. With a flicker of fear Llynya noticed the glimmering wetness that streaked his breastplate. Was that blood?

"The beast is gone for the moment, you need not hide. However it still roams free - stay close to one another." _The beast was alive? _Llynya's mind raced at this pronouncement and her heart plummeted at his next words. "We are in need of a healer and medical supplies. Those who have knowledge of such things should come to the tavern as soon as possible." With that he was gone, leaving a murmuring, confused crowd behind him.

Her chest tight and her limbs leaden with panic, Llynya scrambled up the slope, followed closely by Tom and Charlotte. Lark bounded past her, and she followed the dog who was obviously eager to find the knights. Holding up her skirts and stumbling in the mud, she ran towards the tavern, hair unravelling from it's tidy bun, her eyes bright with fear. Arthur's stallion snorted as she passed and she noticed with a prickle of relief that Gawain's horse was tethered beside him. If his horse was here then that meant he had been able to ride back didn't it? Didn't that mean that he was safe? Careering into the tavern she ran straight into Dagonet's very solid bulk and would have fallen over had he not grabbed her arm.

"Easy there," he said in his familiar rumbling voice, "Gawain's fine."

Llynya gave a shaky laugh, half in relief and half in embarrassment that her motives should be so transparent. She had little time to blush however, for she was grabbed almost instantly from behind, the familiar long hair brushing her cheek and muscular arms pressing her to him tightly.

"Are you alright," she asked, finally pulling away from him and running her eyes over him worriedly. "Are you…" pulling her hand from his chest she found it sticky with blood and looked at him with wide eyes.

"It's not mine," Gawain hastened to reassure her, "it's.."

"Lancelot," breathed Charlotte from behind them. Turning her head, Llynya suddenly noticed the two limp forms laid out upon the tavern tables, their eyes closed and bare chests stained with blood. Letting go of Gawain she took a step towards them before glancing at Dagonet.

"Can I help?" The big knight nodded and looked at Charlotte. "Do you have clean cloth? Sheets, rags anything that can be used for bandages?"

Charlotte looked dumbstruck, her sharp tongue for once silent. Dragging her eyes from Lancelot's prone form she nodded once and backed towards the doorway. "I will, I'll get…" turning tail she fled towards the house she shared with her father.

"They're going to be alright aren't they? I mean…" Llynya felt her words coming out clumsily and lapsed into silence. Beside her neither Dagonet or Gawain answered as they went to tend their injured comrades.

**A/N: Oh dear slinks back into King Arthur fanfic shamefaced. For the people who have been waiting for an update I apologise for the delay. I've just moved house and haven't been inspired to write at all. Don't you just hate it when you lose your muse? Back on track now I hope, assuming anyone still remembers this: ) Thanks for getting me going again Nilmelwen, and thanks Carrie for looking this over and pointing out I'd spelt horses "hoses" several times. Sorry it's a bit short - I'm updating as soon as I've got anything down and checked as my computer has been playing up at the moment - more in the next couple of days, I know there are a lot of questions that need to be answered lol!**


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer: Nothing you recognise belongs to me.**

It was to be a long afternoon. Charlotte returned as promised with an armful of rags and two blankets that she had obviously ripped from her bed. At Dagonet's request both she and Llynya set to work tearing the cloth into bandages and boiling pans of water when asked, glad of something helpful to do, no matter how small. Louisa slid into the tavern, as slender and graceful as Lark who followed at her heels, the dog obviously well aware of the food the woman carried in her arms. She managed to produce a rich soup in almost no time at all, helped by two of the village women who dished it out and offered it to the grateful knights with shy smiles and downcast eyes. After a brief conversation with Arthur, Tom had left to make sure Galahad and Bors had nothing to report, leaving a happily settled Lark curled next to the two girls with a discarded ox bone which she proceeded to demolish with a glee that was utterly at odds to the general mood.

Llynya stroked the lurcher's fur idly and smiled at Tom as he left. Gawain was engaged in conversation with Arthur, and from what she could read of their body language both men were extremely tense - not that she could blame them for it. Two knights down? She could hardly believe it, not after seeing them in battle. Dagonet had tossed the arrow he had removed from Tristan's shoulder into the corner, and she had picked it up with a curiosity that had swiftly turned to confusion. The arrow was well made, but it did not bear the runic symbols that the Woads usually chose to carve into their arrows as a way ofsigning their kills. Gawain had told her that they had seen the beast and been attacked by it, but who then had wielded the bow that had injured Tristan? Who other than Woads would dare to attack knights that fought for Rome? Charlotte merely shrugged when shown the arrow, her attention obviously held by the limp form of Lancelot that lay upon the table in the centre of the tavern. His face was calm, almost as though he was sleeping rather than unconscious, long lashes resting upon high cheekbones, the wicked dark eyes hidden.

"Do you think that he.. they will be alright?" Charlotte whispered, "there seems to be an awful lot of blood."

Llynya shrugged and glanced at her companion. The blonde girl was pale, her lower lip swollen from the countless times she had bitten it as Dagonet tended his wounded companions. When the big knight had re-set Lancelot's dislocated shoulder Charlotte had yelped herself, and Llynya wondered whether this was due to squeamishness or genuine concern for the dark knight. Certainly for someone who had acted with such initial animosity towards him she seemed terrified that he might not survive his injuries. "They are strong," she said finally, "and Dagonet is a good healer. I'm sure they will be fine."

It was in part true. Tristan was already sitting up on the table which had doubled as a makeshift bed, his shoulder heavily bandaged and his usual aloof manner obviously in no waysoftened by recent events. Llynya had given him a tentative smile when she had offered him water, but had quailed a little when his dark eyes flashed towards her. Even injured there was a strange deadly stillness in the way he watched the other knights, and she muttered a thanks to the goddess that they were both on the same side. Lancelot had fared less well. His shoulder had been tended to, but he had broken several ribs and received a nasty gash when his horse had crashed down upon him, although as Arthur had pointed out, the unfortunate animal had most likely provided a shield between him and the beast. He had not yet regained consciousness, something that was obviously worrying Dagonet.

The big knight looked over at the two girls, noting their concern. They had been a great help and weary as he was, it was nice to have their company; their soft words and worried eyes even calming Tristan a little, although he was by no means certain that they could persuade the scout to surrender to the rest he so badly needed.

"Charlotte?" She looked up startled at the summons, before scrambling to her feet and walking over to Dagonet.

"Sir?" she asked politely, her eyes sliding from the intimidating knight to his unconscious companion. "Was there, is there anything you need?"

"Only your time." He smiled a little at the worry in Charlotte's eyes: since they had come to the village Lancelot had muttered darkly about a blonde she-devil with a regularity that suggested his preoccupation was not as antagonistic as he would have others believe. Looking at the pretty, if pale, girl before him, Dagonet was inclined to see why. "I have done all I can for Lancelot, would you sit with him while I speak with Arthur?"

Charlotte nodded at him, her eyes wide, " I will. I'll take care, I mean I'll…" Her words tumbled out and she quickly fell silent. Really, for someone who prided themselves on their sharp tongue she was turning into a babbling idiot awfully quickly, she thought uneasily.

Dagonet smiled, his amusement transforming his stern features, and patted her gently on the shoulder, almost knocking her down in the process. "Thank-you." Nodding at Llynya who had got to her feet and was stretching her aching muscles, he made his way over to his commander.

"So Dagonet's put you in charge of the wolf?" Wandering over to her friend, Llynya's eyes gleamed mischievously. "It must be a terrible chore to look after someone you dislike - if you want I could take over."

Charlotte felt an unwelcome prickle of annoyance at the suggestion. "I am quite capable of keeping an eye on him," she replied tartly. "You already have one knight, perhaps you should be looking after him."

Llynya laughed and glanced over at Gawain who was watching them with weary amusement. "Don't worry, I intend to." Brushing an affectionate hand through Charlotte's hair, she gave her a wink and made her way over to the blond knight. The two of them whispered together before leaving the tavern, Gawain's amused blue eyes flicking between Lancelot and his guardian and studiously ignored by Charlotte, whose cheeks flushed despite her show of indifference.

* * *

"Charlotte seems to have changed her mind regarding Lancelot," Gawain remarked as he led Llynya through the tavern door and kicked it shut behind them. "I'm not sure which of them I feel sorrier for."

Llynya shook her head and stifled a yawn, "I think they are rather well matched myself."

"For battle perhaps," Gawain snorted. Looking down at the woman beside him, he smiled. "You did well today, I'm not much good when it comes to healing - Dagonet was grateful for your help."

Giving him an incredulous look, Llynya stifled a laugh. "you and the knights go out hunting a tiger and you are praising me for ripping up cloth for bandages? I did precious little of use as you are well aware, and what little I did to help is insignificant when compared to what you and your brothers have done for me."

"There is no need to thank me Llynya, you know that." Rubbing a hand through his hair he looked at her regretfully. "I thought that you'd be safe here - you'd probably have been better off in the forest where Tom found you."

Llynya shrugged and let go of his hand. The forest was a not a recollection she was keen to re-visit, for the forest led to the village, and the village led to Beth and her family and a dozen other memories that she had managed to shove into a box in her mind until she was willing to face them. "You are not to blame, either way I would have faced danger, at least I am not alone here."

Gawain opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything a shout rang out behind them. Turning, both he and Llynya saw Galahad canter into the courtyard, slightly out of breath, his curls sweaty and dishevelled.

"Come on," he said taking in the scene with amusement. "Time to play spot the beastie with Bors. He's been boring the arse of me for the past few hours, now it's your turn. Just because Tris and Lance get to be looked after by that little blonde doesn't mean you can sneak off with Llynya."

"One more word out of you and female company will be the last thing of any interest or use to you," Gawain growled. Kissing Llynya on the forehead, he looked at her apologetically. "I'm sorry, I have to go."

She nodded in understanding and gave a half-smile. "Go. I'll be here when you return."

"Good. There are things I should have said.." Glancing at Galahad who was unabashedly watching them, he fell silent and let her go. "Stay close to the tavern and the other knights," he warned, "any trouble then find Dagonet, Arthur or even him," he said jerking his head towards the young knight unenthusiastically.

"Alright." Llynya watched the interaction between the two knights with amusement, reluctant as she was to let Gawain go, she knew full well that neither he or she had a choice in the matter. "Be careful."

Gawain looked back at her and smiled. Passing Galahad, he patted his horse affectionately before looking up at it's rider. "Keep an eye on her," pausing, he amended that request, "just your eyes."

The younger knight nodded, sliding off his horse and clapping his friend on the shoulder as he went to find his own mount.

Llynya watched as Galahad unbuckled his saddle, and although she knew it wasn't a good idea to wander off, she made her way to the barn that had sheltered the villagers beneath the floor. In a moment she would return to the tavern, but it was nice to have even a few moments to herself. Wryly she thought about her life only a few short weeks ago. That had been a world of solitude, only intruded upon by some of the villagers and the animals she kept. Now look at her - there had been barely a moment to breathe between one event and another. She was so preoccupied that it took her a moment to realise that she was not alone in the barn. In the far corner a person huddled, sobbing like a child but far too big to be one. A little uncertainly she rose to her feet. She shouldn't really be here, she shouldn't approach someone she didn't know and who would most likely resent her intrusion. Looking towards the doorway, she briefly fought and lost an inner battle.

"Hello?" she asked, tentatively aproaching the shadows, "are you alright?"

The figure unfurled itself from the darkness, and Llynya recognised Balan's face as he came into the light. His eyes were swollen from crying and his smooth skin furrowed with worry.

"You're that girl aren't you? The one that came with the Romans?" He looked at her in confusion.

Llynya nodded, "I am. Is there something I can do? Why are you crying?"

"Got to see the knights, got to explain. He doesn't mean it see - if he knew they were Roman then he wouldn't have…"

"I don't understand," Llynya looked at the man in consternation. "Who doesn't mean what? Are you talking about the attack today? Do you know who shot Tristan?"

"He didn't, he wouldn't." Childlike as Balan usually seemed, he was nonetheless a big man, and Llynya took a step backwards almost without thinking. "You ask Dynadan about Shona, you ask him about Caradoc and the fort." He was almost shouting now, and Llynya backed away, well aware that he was quite capable of snapping her neck before help would arrive. "You ask him about Tauleas.." the fight seemed to drain out of him suddenly, and Llynya hesitated.

"Tauleas? You mean the Roman boy?" Stepping a little closer she noticed the tears running down the big man's cheeks and tentatively touched his arm. "But he's dead isn't he? At the meeting, they said he and everyone else at the fort were killed."

"You ask them. You ask all of them - ask them why." Looking down at the hand resting on his arm, Balan removed it with a gentleness that belied his huge frame. "You ask them why the Woads leave them alone and why they killed Caradoc."

"But.." Llynya tried to make sense of what he had said, before almost jumping out of her skin when Galahad called her name. Balan took one look at the knight and loped off, glancing back at Najila and disappearing into the orchard with an ease that Lark would envy.

"What are you doing talking to that half-wit?" Galahad watched Balan disappear into the undergrowth with confusion. "Didn't think he was the type to provide interesting conversation." Stepping into the barn, he wrinkled his nose at the musty smell, "what did he have to say for himself?"

"I'm not sure," Llynya said slowly, "but if you want to rid the village of the beast then it's best we find out."

* * *

Charlotte shifted uncomfortably on the hard surface of the wooden table. Beside her Lancelot lay quietly, his chest swathed in bandages, his breathing slow and steady. It wasn't as though she actually cared about him, she told herself sternly. He and the other knights were helping the village, and she was part of the village so she was only doing her duty. It wasn't like she… His eyes fluttered open and she gave a small squeak of alarm, almost falling off the table in the process.

"Lancelot?" uncertain as to what to do, she ended up giving him a rather unladylike poke to his uninjured shoulder.

"Charlotte?" Lancelot squinted as the light assailed his eyes, and it took a moment before he could focus on the girl beside him. "The tiger, my brothers - are they safe, is the village…" Attempting to push himself up, he was somewhat startled when the young blonde girl looked at him sternly and pushed him back down gently.

"None of that please. Dagonet has only just finished stitching you up - it would be a shame to ruin such fine handiwork." At her glare he sighed and settled back down. "Your brothers. I mean the knights, I mean…" She sighed and inwardly rolled her eyes at her uncharacteristic nervousness, taking a deep breath, she continued. "Tristan was injured, but Dagonet says he'll be fine. No-one else was hurt. The beast got away - beyond that I know as little as you do."

Lancelot relaxed slightly, sinking into the pillow that lay behind him. His body might ache and protest at each movement, but it had been the barely suppressed panic at losing yet another friend that had been foremost in his thoughts as soon as he awakened. With a shiver he remembered the blur of fur and teeth that had seemingly come out of no-where and dragged both he and his mount to the ground. "My horse," he asked dully, "what happened to my horse?"

"I'm sorry," Charlotte said awkwardly, "I don't think it survived." As the dark knight's eyes closed in sorrow she put a tentative hand upon his shoulder. She had seen how well cared for the knights' mounts were and admired the beautiful animals. If you were a slave to duty then you took good care of whatever liberties afforded you, she supposed.

Lancelot nodded and brushed her fingers, almost without realising what he was doing. As she pulled her hand away, he looked at her meditatively. "I did not know that you were a healer Charlotte. How many other talents are you hiding from me?"

"None that would be of any interest to you," she said tartly. A little embarrassed, she tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear and said boldly, "what makes you so sure that I'm not skilled in healing anyway?" Stepping backwards, she knocked into the small table that held a collection of bandages and a bowl of warm water. Lancelot raised an eyebrow as several bandages rolled off the table and a good quantity of water sloshed onto the floor, but said nothing. Charlotte flushed but remained defiant. "I helped Daisy when she was birthing, and Dickon himself said she'd have died if it wasn't for me."

"Then I apologise." Lancelot attempted to sit up and stifled a wince. "Daisy and her child were lucky to have you attend them - especially given your gentle bedside manner."

"That they were." Charlotte ignored the sarcasm of his last comment and folded her arms across her chest smugly. "Four born and not a runt among them."

"Four?" asked Lancelot weakly, images of Vanora and her countless offspring flashing through his mind. "Why didn't Dickon run to the hil.. I mean how did he welcome such a blessing?"

"Right proud he was," Charlotte said, bending down to collect the fallen bandages. "He got nine coins apiece for them too - most only go for seven."

"He sold them?" Lancelot noted the triumph on the girl's face and was momentarily rendered speechless. _They sold their children? _On the other side of the room Dagonet winked at him before wandering off towards the kitchen, and Lancelot fought back the desire to call out to him. If the people of this village sold their children at market then the gods only knew what else they were capable of.

"Of course he did." Charlotte gave him an incredulous look. "How's he supposed to feed all of them when they get older? It's not like there's room for them anyway."

"Perhaps he could build an extra couple of rooms…" Lancelot suggested faintly. It was strange enough to have exotic animals roaming the countryside - discovering that the villagers treated their children as commodities was almost worse.

Charlotte blinked at him in disbelief. "You would have people share their homes with pigs?" Placing the newly folded bandages back on the table, she glanced at him as though she couldn't quite believe what he had said. "You must come from a barbaric county," she finally muttered almost under her breath, "we are not so heathen in these parts."

"Pigs?" His mind whirling, Lancelot realised his mistake and would have burst out laughing had his ribs not protested as soon as he started to shake with amusement. "Pigs. Of course - I thought you meant… I'm sorry Charlotte, I was mistaken."

The young woman looked at the man attempting to hold back his laughter in utter confusion. "Mistaken? What did you think I spoke of?" Lancelot refused to meet her eyes, and realisation suddenly dawned. "You didn't think… not children?"

Lancelot gave her an apologetic smile; a smile that had loosened many a garter back at Hadrians Wall and which was for once ignored.

"What sort of people do you think we are?" Charlotte asked incredulously. "Selling children?" She harrumphed in annoyance and looked at the knight -the half-naked knight - with as much bravado as she could muster, trying valiantly not to let her eyes wander. "We might not hold with all that Roman pomp and nonsense, but we're not…" she struggled for a moment to find a word that would adequately embody her disgust, "Saxons," she spat finally.

"I'm sorry. " Lancelot felt exhaustion beginning to overwhelm him and struggled to keep his eyes open. "I didn't mean to… I mean.." He had slipped back into unconsciousness before the apology was fully formed. Charlotte looked at him for a moment, torn between outrage and amusement, before pulling the blanket back over him and curling up to wait until he next awakened.

**A/N Hmm, this chapter changes POV quite a few times - something I don't usually do. I hope it didn't get too confusing. Thanks for making this half-way readable Carrie : ) As ever thanks to my lovely reviewers, I hope I replied to you all (and thanks phia - sorry for the long wait before) please feed the author lol!**


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit made, I will put the knights back tidily once I've finished borrowing them.**

Llyna accompanied Galahad out of the barn and back towards the tavern reluctantly. She liked Galahad - he was not much older than her, and still retained a little of the bright-eyed eagerness that had been long since crushed from his fellow knights, but even so, she would have much preferred to have gone after Balan. The man was obviously half witted, and it was more than possible that he had no real knowledge of what he had spoken of, but the anguish in his eyes had been real, his distress obviously genuine. The village had secrets, that at least was a certainty, and Balan seemed to be struggling under their weight.

Grimacing as the mud squelched beneath her shoes, and trotting a couple of steps in order to keep up with the young knight, Llynya caught a glance of the meadow. The shadows were lengthening and it would be dark very soon. It had been agreed earlier that bonfires might help in either repelling or revealing the beast, and already several had been lit on the outskirts of the village, the first sparks floating like fireflies through the darkness. _You ask them why the Woads leave them alone._ Balan's words echoed in her head and she paused. The village elder had said that Woads did not pose a threat to the village, but if there had been a Roman camp nearby, wouldn't they too have expected loyalty? If either the Woads or Romans discovered the village was friendly towards their enemy then retribution would be swift and bloody. Revenge - it could hardly be described as justice - was dealt without remorse and usually left no-one alive to bury the dead, let alone mourn them. There was no middle ground when it came to alliances, and it seemed strange that the village had remained so unscathed by what must have been a slaughter when the Woads attacked the Roman camp.

"Llynya?" Galahad gestured towards the tavern. "Come on, It's safer inside."

"Alright." She nodded and followed him into the building, smiling a little as she caught a glimpse of Gawain cantering across the meadow towards Bors.

Arthur was wearily slumped in the corner of the tavern, the remains of the meal Louisa had prepared for him discarded upon the table; his attention obviously concentrated on Tom and Dynadan beside him rather than the food. Nearby Tristan sat quietly, sharpening one of his daggers and barely glancing up as Llynya and Galahad entered the room. Lancelot, Llynya noted with amusement, was either asleep or unconscious, Charlotte sitting beside him rolling bandages, and obviously loath to take her eyes off him. The blond girl glared at the new arrivals as though daring them to say something, but gave an embarrassed smile when Llynya grinned at her. From the looks of things Charlotte had suspended hostilities when it came to the roguish Knight, and given that her father was in the room, even if Lancelot awakened he would be forced to mind his manners, she thought with amusement.

Lark greeted the pair enthusiastically; her tail whipping back and forth and paws dancing across the flagstones. Bending down to scratch the lurcher's ears, Llynya took a moment to gather her muddled thoughts. She wasn't quite sure how to explain what she had heard, but Balan had been so distraught she certainly believed that he at least thought he had information that could help them. Biting back her apprehension, she walked over to Arthur, the village elder and Tom with a bravado she didn't really feel.

"Sirs?" At Arthur's questioning glance she squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. "A moment ago I spoke with Balan, well he spoke to me… well he said some things that were strange, about the Woads and the village and the Roman boy." Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, and looking at Dynadan nervously, she sat down awkwardly when the big man gestured towards the bench beside him. The Roman commander looked at her patiently. "I see. And what did he say to you?"

"He mentioned Tauleas. The Roman boy, the one who was killed." Llynya felt a prickle of unease as Dynadan paled and avoided her eyes. "Tauleas and other names… Shona and Cara something, Caramock? Caraloc? I think he thinks that they have something to do with what's happening. With the beast, I mean."

"Caradoc?" Charlotte whispered, sliding off her chair and walking over. "Caradoc is dead Llynya, he… he.."

"He murdered Shona, a village girl, and was punished accordingly," Dynadan said tightly. "That was the end of it - that _is _the end of it."

"Balan doesn't seem to agree with you," Arthur replied quietly.

"Balan is a half-wit!" The village elder stood abruptly, and glanced towards the door. "It was a terrible crime, but it happened almost a year ago. Shona died by Caradoc's hand, Caradoc died by ours. Tauleas has been dead for years - it was a pity that he and those in the fort were killed, but that was a fight that had nothing to do with our village and is almost forgotten now. Romans kill Woads, Woads kill Romans. My people are neither - it is not our fight." He sat back down and fidgeted restlessly. "None of this has anything to do with the beast."

Galahad shifted against the wall he was leaning against and glanced at Arthur. Something didn't ring true about Dynadan's explanation, and the man was obviously unnerved by the conversation. Charlotte looked merely confused by the mention of Caradoc, but her father was fidgeting restlessly, his fingers twisting into the fabric of his tunic.

Arthur also seemed unconvinced with Dynadan's version of events. "Galahad, find Balan." The young knight nodded leaving the tavern swiftly, and Arthur turned his attention back to Dynadan. "Who was Caradoc? Why did he kill the girl?"

"He was crazy," Charlotte muttered, "wasn't he father?" She wrinkled her nose at the memory. "Alice said he once…"

"That's enough," Dynadan snapped. Recovering his composure a little, he continued more calmly,

"Caradoc was a blacksmith; a good one too." he paused as though hunting for the right words. "He had a temper on him though - if there was a brawl at the tavern then you could bet your horse that he'd be at the centre of it. Even so, none of us could have foreseen what happened." Rubbing a hand through his greying hair, he sighed heavily. "I don't know what it was about Shona that made him so obsessed with making her his own. She was a shy little thing; lived on the outskirts of town and didn't mix with folk much. Her mother died several years back, and her father… Well no one really knows, but he was probably a soldier from the fort that used to be here. I never heard evidence one way or another, but some people were a little…" Dynadan shifted uncomfortably, "you know how people talk… She kept herself to herself anyway - I don't think she would have welcomed company much even if people had offered it."

"She was not accepted in the village?" Arthur asked, his eyes intent upon the man sat before him.

"It wasn't as though anyone was hostile towards her," Dynadan protested. "She came down every couple of weeks to sell her wares and there was never any trouble. She used to collect herbs, make potions and lotions and what-not. Her mother used to do the same."

"She wasn't a witch," Charlotte added hastily, as though that would have been the first thing to spring to the Roman commander's mind. "They really worked…" quailing under her father's glare, she fell silent.

"Thank-you Charlotte," Dynadan said irritably. "As I said, I don't know why Caradoc was so taken by her - he was popular with the village girls, although he had a tendency to go after married women. He didn't need to go chasing after her. She rebuffed his advances several times, but that only made things worse. It was the harvest festival when he.. It happened. He was drunk - but then so was everyone else. She must have struggled, his face was scratched when I found him, and she… He said he hadn't meant to hurt her, but her neck was broken. Everyone was drunk and Caradoc was not well liked, at least not amongst the men."

"A lynch mob," Tom murmured.

Dynadan looked up sharply. "I'm not proud of what happened. That isn't the way justice is usually dealt here, but people were drunk, things got out of hand, and it was no great loss. He killed the girl, no-one was prepared to speak in his favour, and he paid for his crime. It was a horrible business , but it's over, it ended there." Glancing at his daughter, he added, "if he was capable of killing once then he could have done it again. I couldn't…"

His words were cut off by the arrival of Galahad and a very frightened Balan. The young man was visibly trembling, his eyes darting around the room, sliding away from the people that watched as the big knight half ushered and half dragged him towards Arthur. At the click of the door closing behind him he jumped, and suddenly feeling sorry for him, Llynya scrambled off the bench upon which she had perched and patted his arm reassuringly.

"It's alright," she said, looking into his terrified blue eyes. "No-one is going to hurt you." Noticing Dynadan's fierce expression, she silently made a wish to the goddess that she was making a promise that would be kept.

"Balan," Arthur said, softening his voice at Balan's obvious terror. "Sit down." He gestured to the chair beside Dynadan, "I only wish to talk to you."

"I don't know nothing." Balan made his way towards the centre of the room and sat down, his fingers skittering over the worn edges of the chair, and his eyes firmly fixed upon the floor. "Why'd you bring me here?"

"You spoke to Llynya of Caradoc and Tauleas." Arthur glanced at Llynya who flushed and nodded. "Why did you speak of them?"

Balan did not meet the Roman commander's eyes, but seemed to tense at the mention of the dead boy's name. "I didn't mean nothing by it," he muttered, "I talk too much - ask my ma. Can I go?"

"In a moment." Arthur looked at the boy with confusion. This was not a situation that he had any experience in, and by the looks of things the boy was utterly terrified of him. Tom grunted with annoyance, and he shot him a quelling look. Balan might be half-witted, but it was obvious that he was hiding something, and information would not be forthcoming by way of threats or intimidation. Glancing at the corner of the room, Arthur's eyes lit upon the two girls. Llynya had retreated to Charlotte's side, her eyes intent upon the scene unfolding. Balan had spoken to her before - perhaps he might be persuaded to speak to her again. "Llynya?"

She jumped slightly when Arthur motioned her forward, nervously brushing her hair back as she took a couple of steps forward. "My lord?" she asked tentatively, "what is it that you would have me do?"

Arthur gave a half smile of reassurance to the young girl. "Perhaps Balan would be more comfortable talking to you." He glanced at the young man who refused to meet his eyes. "Will you speak to Llynya?"

Balan gave a swift nod that could have been agreement or merely a nervous twitch, and Llynya stepped forward, horribly self conscious and baffled as to what she was supposed to do. "Balan?" she asked quietly, "you spoke of Tauleas before, why was that?"

"I don't know nothing," he muttered, eyes fixed firmly on the floor.

"Then why did you mention him?" Llynya tried to think back to their previous conversation. _He doesn't mean it see - if he knew they were Roman then he wouldn't have… _Realisation hit her like a blow to the stomach. "Tauleas isn't dead is he Balan?"

The man raised his head slowly. His eyes were bright with tears and his nose had started to run. Despite his size his expression was that of a miserable child. "I'm not supposed to tell," he mumbled. "He said they'd kill him. Said they'd kill me if I told."

"Tauleas told you that?" reaching out for his hand she squeezed his fingers, crouching down beside him. Balan nodded, rubbing his nose with the back of his free hand. "Everyone was dead - I mean his pa and everyone. He ran away." He glanced at Dynadan nervously. "But it was alright because he had Shona and sometimes I would see him and I would give him bread and he would give me meat."

"He lived in the forest?" Charlotte looked at Balan incredulously. "But we would have taken him in, we could have sent word to… someone. He needn't have been alone." She glanced at her father in search of reassurance and her voice trailed off. "We had no fight with the fort…"

"You shouldn't have done it." Balan glared at the village elder fiercely. "He knows what you did. You betrayed them, you drugged them and let the woads in. He knows what you did. All of them died and it was your fault. He loved Shona and Shona's dead and he don't care anymore, and he said if I…" He started to cry, untangling his fingers from Llynya's and tucking his hands against his stomach. "She stopped him before, her and me - but now she's dead and he says if he sees me again _I'm_ dead."

Dynadan had almost stopped breathing. His face was completely drained of colour, his forehead beaded with sweat. Unable to meet the eyes of the men beside him, he glanced at his daughter. Charlotte looked utterly confused, her big blue eyes flicking towards him with the unspoken trust that he would say something to explain Balan's words, that he could make things right.

"I'm sorry love," he said quietly. "I'm so sorry."

"You betrayed the fort." Arthur's words were not a question, his eyes hard as he looked at the man before him. "You drugged the Romans."

Dynadan nodded. Dragging his eyes away from his daughter, he met Arthur's eyes. "The crime is mine and mine alone. The woads threatened the village, they threatened…" he glanced at Charlotte. "It was them or us. They were going to start with the children, make the rest of us watch.. We had good ties with the fort, they trusted us," he swallowed hard. "They trusted me. It wasn't difficult to slip nightshade into the stew when I helped the cook take the bread to their kitchen. After that I left and…" his voice trailed off. "It was supposed to have ended there. We aren't warriors, there were at leasttwo hundred woads living in the hills back then - we wouldn't have stood a chance against them. Tauleas…" he rubbed a weary hand over his face, "I had no idea that he was still alive."

"He is." Balan looked at Dynadan solemnly. "He loved Shona, they were going to run away. She told him not to hurt anyone, even though people didn't talk to her and said bad things about her. They were going to leave, and then everything would have been alright, but then Caradoc killed her, and Tauleas isn't like he used to be". His voice faltered slightly, "if they had just gone then none of this would have happened. She was nice Shona, she never called me a half-wit or an idiot. They were going to run away from here and get married."

"But what of the beast?" Galahad looked at the young man in confusion. "Is it his?"

"He had a cat," Balan whispered. "A beautiful stripey cat. He let me play with it back when I used to visit the fort sometimes, back before... He brought it from Rome; his uncle gave it to him. He said it was special, and that when it was older and he went back home it would fight in competitions. I thought that was stupid, 'cos it was a big cat but cats don't fight, and he kept saying it was only a kitten, and I said 'no it isn't, cos that's a big cat, and even old Mrs Ellie's cat wasn't that big'." Balan looked at Dynadan solemnly. "It's an awfullot bigger now."

The slam of the door made even Arthur jump, and before anyone had a chance to follow her, Charlotte had fled.

Charlotte ran blindly, stumbling through the darkness without any care or knowledge of where she was headed. The thundering beat of heart and the cold chill of the air dragged into her lungs, were enough to drown out every thing she had heard, the sting of the nettles against her ankles a welcome distraction from the thoughts racing around her head. Finally running out of breath, she slowed to a walk. She was beside the pig pen,she noted dimly, although the animals had had obviously been moved somewhere else. Nothing stirred in the little pens, and the wooden shelters they liked to sleep in were empty. Slumping down against the nearest one, she leant against the weathered wood for a moment and tried to catch her breath. It was dangerous to tarry for very long in the darkness, but going back meant facing her father - meant looking at the man she had respected with new eyes and the guilt of knowing that for years she hadn't really known the person she loved best in the world. People had died because of her father - dozens of Romans slaughtered as a direct consequence of his actions. Villagers had been killed because of that same betrayal. People she had known, people she had liked. Why hadn't she seen what was happening? Why hadn't he told her about the Woads - hadn't he trusted her? Arthur would probably execute him and there was nothing she could do to save him - by trying to protect her Dynadan had damned them all. She shoved the thoughts away and got to her feet, carefully picking her way over the stony ground. It was tempting to stay where she was, lost in the darkness, but her inner practicality forced her to her feet and made her walk back to her home.

The village was silent, the faint flicker of candlelight in the occasional window the only sign of life. Across the meadow the silhouette of a person moved before one of the bonfires, almost ghostlike in the darkness. Stumbling over a rut, she barely managed to avoid sprawling head first into the mud, her palms stinging as the gritty ground abraded them . With a muttered curse she scrambled to her knees, brushing her hair from her eyes and suddenly froze. There was something breathing behind her. _Perhaps it was one of the knights, perhaps it was her father, a dog or.. _Feeling her muscles tense and terror flood like ice water through her veins, she slowly turned her head. The beast crouched behind her, eyes gleaming like green fire, the sleek muscles bunched and rippling in the faint light. It was upon her before she had a chance to even think of screaming, the powerful jaws closing around her throat and the heavy body forcing her backwards and knocking the breath from her body. The last thing Charlotte saw was the young man who stood in the shadows watching silently, her last thought a distant memory of her mother.

"Come." Tauleas looked dispassionately at the young woman's body and ran a hand over the big cat's back. The beast gave a rumbling purr and rubbed it's magnificent head against his side affectionately, and together they slunk back into the shadows, as swift and silent as the clouds that scudded across the moon above them.

**A/N: So much for my intended short fluffy story -I don't know what happened there! I hope this chapter wasn't too confusing - I know there are still a lot of questions that need answering. Thanks to everyone that reviewed the last chapter (thanks Phia - hope things are becoming a bit clearer now - although probably not!).**


	19. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer: Nothing you recognise belongs to me.**

It was Lark who found her. Lark who nudged the unmoving body and whimpered in distress, looking in confusion at the body of the girl who had been petting her mere moments ago. Giving a sharp bark, the lurcher settled back on her haunches and waited for her master to come. Tom followed the sound of the barking, Llynya close behind him. Behind them Arthur held firm to a panicking Dynadan, Galahad and Dagonet flanking the silent form of Balan. Tristan had been left to watch over Lancelot, although from the flash of his eyes at the order, he would rather have joined the hunt for the girl.

"Lark?" Tom called for his dog and was rewarded with another bark. As the small group rounded the corner towards the pig pens, the lurcher got to her feet, but did not move from the crumpled heap she stood guard over.

"What is that?" Llynya whispered uncertainly. It looked like a bundle of discarded clothing, but as the clouds briefly fled before the moon, a fan of pale hair gleamed silver against the dirt, and she felt her breath catch in her throat. "Charlotte?"

As though in a dream she watched Tom hurry towards the body. Turning the young girl over carefully, she fell to her knees as Charlotte's face was revealed. Her eyes were glassy, the glimmer of blood on her neck almost black in the faint light. Tom looked back at his companions and shook his head sadly.

"Charlie?" Dynadan's voice was so soft that Llynya barely heard him. "Charlie girl?" He pushed away Arthur's hand and walked unsteadily towards the ranger and the limp form he held in his arms. "Wake up love. I'm sorry, wake up love…" He dropped to his knees and Tom relinquished the body to Dynadan's arms. Cradling his daughter as though he could return life to her by sheer force of will, the village elder rocked her back and forth, a low keening cry of grief escaping him.

Llynya felt a big hand slide beneath her arm and pull her to her feet. Looking up, she saw Dagonet's grim expression and unconsciously moved a little closer to him. Balan was sobbing openly, Galahad seemingly dumbstruck by what had happened. Only Arthur seemed to retain his wits.

"Dagonet," he said quietly. "Take Charlotte back to the tavern. Llynya, Balan, you go with them - try and make sure Dynadan goes with you." Llynya nodded and stepped away from Dagonet . Tom looked up as Arthur called his name, and vanished into the darkness at the Roman commander's order to retrieve Gawain and Bors from their posts.

"How did it get past the lookouts?" Galahad muttered almost to himself, "we had the village covered…"

Arthur ran a hand over his face and dragged his eyes from Charlotte's body. "Check the lookouts, make sure that nothing has happened to any of them and then return to the tavern. We will need a strategy to defeat this evil."

Galahad nodded, touching Llynya briefly on the shoulder before loping off to find his horse.

Breathing deeply, Llynya approached Dynadan, crouching down beside him and touching his shoulder gently. The pain in his eyes made her heart twist, but she managed to keep her voice steady.

"She's gone. We can't stay here."

Dynadan shook his head in denial. "She's my little girl… My fault, my fault.."

Llynya swallowed hard. "She knew you loved her, let her go Dynadan, please let her go." Reaching out, she gently pulled Charlotte's body from her father's arms. Struggling not to cry, she sank back on her haunches, Charlotte's silky hair tickling her chin, her blood seeping through the bodice of her dress.

Dagonet reached down and took the dead girl from Llynya's arms, cradling the slight body respectfully. Reaching forward, Llynya took Dynadan's hand and managed to persuade him to get to his feet. His actions might have caused all this pain and bloodshed, but for the moment all she could feel for the man was pity. As they walked past Arthur, Dynadan paused. Gently brushing Llynya's hand off his shoulder, he studied the tall Roman before falling to his knees and bowing his head.

"For the fort, for the village, for Char…" he choked upon his daughter's name and took a deep breath. "Let justice be done."

Arthur looked at him for a long moment, his hand reaching for Excalibur and sliding the great sword half out of it's scabbard. "You offer your life as punishment for your crime?" he asked quietly.

"I do, my lord," Dynadan replied brokenly.

"I will not take it," Arthur said with deceptive gentleness. "Live with what you have done, live with the knowledge of the blood that has been spilt because of your actions. If you seek redemption in the eyes of your gods then help us fight, help us defeat the beast."

Dynadan was silent, slowly dragging his eyes from the ground, he looked over at the body of his only child, cradled in Dagonet's arms. "If by my life or death I can help you, I will."

Arthur nodded, turning around and heading back to the tavern. Llynya followed Dagonet, trying to keep close, as though she could bestow some sort of belated comfort to the dead girl in his arms. Impulsively she reached out and took one of Charlotte's hands. Her skin was still a little warm, and squeezing the calloused palm tightly, she forced her emotions down and concentrated on the short walk to the tavern.

A despairing cry greeted their entrance to the pub, and jolted out of her reverie, Llynya looked around to see Louisa's stricken face.

"Charlotte?" The dark haired woman hurried over, her cheeks blanched and her eyes wide with horror. Stretching out a trembling hand towards the dead girl's face, Arthur barely managed to catch her before she slumped to the floor in a dead faint. Swinging her up into his arms, he placed her upon the table next to where Lancelot still laid, blissfully unaware of the night's events. Tossing his cloak over her prone body, he looked at Llynya.

"Is there somewhere we can put Charlotte for the moment?"

Llynya nodded. "There's a room beside the kitchen." She glanced back nervously at Dynadan, but if he had heard her words then he showed no sign of having done so. His eyes were dead, his shoulders slumped, and squaring her shoulders, Llynya beckoned Dagonet to follow her. The little room was small - it had once been a dining room for Louisa and her family, until death and bad memories had sent the woman to seek more lively places to dine. The big oak table that dominated the room was thick with dust, and unwilling to see her friend laid upon such a filthy surface, Llynya hurriedly cleaned it with her shawl. Dagonet waited patiently for her to finish, before carefully placing the body upon the table.

"Would you like me to clean her?" he said kindly. It was traditional for relatives to tend the body and prepare the body for burial, but Dynadan was obviously incapable of doing so, as was Louisa.

"No." Llynya shook her head. "Thank-you, but I would rather do it myself."

"As you wish." He patted her shoulder as he left, and Llynya set about the task she had set herself. Fetching the lantern from the kitchen, she carefully lit the stubby remains of old candles that lined the windowsill and tipped a generous measure of water into a bowl. Washing away the blood that stained Charlotte's pale skin and matted her hair, she sang old songs her mother had taught her under her breath. Perhaps somewhere the younger girl would hear the music and be comforted. The wound on her throat was deep and had obviously killed her quickly - it came as little reassurance. The slice of what must have been claws marked her shoulders and shredded her dress, and Llynya had to fight hard to keep her emotions under control. Finally finishing, Llynya kissed her friend on the forehead, thanked her for her courage and kindness and wept as though her heart had shattered.

* * *

The knights had returned. Through the thin walls Llynya could vaguely make out Bor's snarl and Arthur's curt reply, although she could not make out the words. Getting to her feet, she wiped her face clean of tears and touched Charlotte's cheek before making her way to the kitchen. There was obviously a heated debate going on in the main serving room, and she hesitated before pushing the door open.

Bors's face was red, his sword pointing towards Dynadans throat.

"If it's his fault then why don't we kill the bloody bastard?" he roared. "What's the point in keeping him alive?"

"Leave him Bors," Arthur said tightly, "he is of no use to us if he is dead."

Bors snorted and crossed his arms over his chest, ignoring Dagonet's warning look. "Not much use to us alive either." Dynadan made no move either to speak or defend himself, his eyes were as dead as his daughter's.

Slipping the door shut behind her, Llynya scanned the large room. Tristan was perched on one of the benches, his eyes flicking towards her with a look that could have been sympathy, curiosity, or merely the reflexes of a man used to seeking out danger. Lancelot was awake, she noticed with a sudden jolt. He was half propped upright and obviously in pain. Unwilling to meet his eyes, she sidled towards the far end of the tavern, towards the two men who sat near the fireplace.

"Llynya?" Tom nodded as she approached, and she made herself nod back, brushing a hand over Lark's head as she passed. Gawain said nothing, but pulled her onto his lap, his big hands tracing circles over her back and pulling her close.

"Charlotte's dead," she managed to choke out. "The beast…"

"I know." His breath was warm against her cheek, his beard scratchy against the soft skin of her neck. "I'm sorry."

"Dynadan…."

"Arthur told us." Gawain pushed her up a little so that she was sitting on his lap. "At least we know what we are up against, at least we can make plans…"

His words were cut off by Galahad stumbling through the door. He carried the limp form of a man upon his shoulders, and dumped the body onto the ground with an audible groan of relief.

"Galahad?" Arthur asked, moving forward to examine the body.

The young knight shook his head and brushed his sweaty curls from his forehead. "Two men down." He pointed to the arrow shaft that protruded from the dead man's throat. "No woad markings, got to have been Tauleas. He took out two watchmen from behind and then led the beast in. We were watching the meadow, but from the direction of the arrows I'd say he circled around. How in the name of the gods are you supposed to spot an archer in the darkness? They were dead before they knew what had hit them."

There was no answer to that. Llynya glanced over at Lancelot reluctantly. His face was set, his eyes glittering in the firelight. Dimly she wondered how much Charlotte's death had affected him, before resting her head back against Gawain's chest. There would be time enough tomorrow for condolences, time enough for regret and blame. Feeling the blond knight's arms wrap around her, she tried not to think of Charlotte, and before she knew it she was asleep.

**A/N Quite a response for the last chapter lol! Sorry people who liked Charlotte, but it had to be done. Thanks to everyone who reviewed (Phia - you are right, Gawain was in the meadow - typo on my part, thanks for pointing it out).**


	20. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer: Nothing you recognise belongs to me.**

Llynya did not remember falling asleep, nor did she remember being carried back to the small house that had been provided as her quarters. Struggling reluctantly from slumber, she focussed on the high beamed ceiling and tried to work out where she was.

"Llynya?" The low voice beside her was startling, and she scrambled upright, entangling herself in the bedclothes and blinking blearily at the figure sat upon the end of the bed.

"Gawain." She brushed her hair from her eyes and gave a half smile. "I suppose it was you that brought me back here."

"It was that or leave you in the tavern, and that didn't seem particularly gallant." He watched as Llynya swung her legs over the bed and adjusted her shift. A shadow crossed her expression for a moment, and he knew that she was thinking about Charlotte.

"Are they going to bury Char…" her voice trailed off. "I mean will there be a funeral for her?"

A couple of local lads buried her this morning," Gawain said quietly. "I'll show you where if you like."

Llynya took a moment to digest this information. She wished that she had managed to stay awake to see Charlotte laid to rest, but at the same time it was a relief that her body did not lie lonely and unburied in Louisa's tavern. Nodding, she slid off the bed and padded to the corner of the room. Her rumpled dress lay upon the chair in the corner, and she pulled it over her head, ignoring the sticky griminess of her skin. Washing would have to wait until later, for, she realised with a pang, there would be no blonde haired girl with a wicked smile bringing water this morning.

Gawain was already dressed; from the weariness in his eyes he had slept little. Llynya crossed the room and took his hand, running her fingers over his rough palm and tracing the lines that could have been read by far wiser women than she. Looking up at him, she kissed the rough skin and didn't say anything, but let him pull her onto his lap, resting her head upon his shoulder and sighing as he rubbed small circles against her back.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry about Charlotte."

"Wasn't your fault," she muttered against his neck. "Blame Tauleas, blame Dynadan."

"Bors and I were supposed to be on watch." He gripped Llynya around the waist and pushed her back a little so that she faced him. Her dark eyes bright with worry and her lip caught between her teeth. "We saw nothing. Nothing. If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes then I would think it a ghost."

"What are you going to do?" she asked, her fingers tracing his jaw. "Does Arthur have a plan?"

The blond knight shrugged. "Arthur is a brilliant tactician, but this isn't an army we are facing. Lancelot and Tristan nearly died the last time we faced the beast, and I've never seen them defeated before. We need to change our tactics if we are to defeat this evil."

"You'll find a way," Llynya said solemnly. "I have faith in you and your brothers."

"Faith." Gawain looked sorrowful for a moment. "It is a long time since I have had faith in anything but my axe and my commander." He kissed Llynya gently. "I thought that by bringing you here I was giving you a better life: I was wrong."

Llynya frowned and concentrated on the lock of his hair that she had wound around her fingers. "How were you to know what would happen? You could have left me with Tom long ago - there is no need to apologise."

"You think I would have left you alone?" Gawain tipped her chin up so that her eyes met his.

She studied him for a moment. "You left before, I came back into your life against your wishes. I could not blame you for being angry."

"Angry?" Gawain said incredulously, "surprised, thankful, yes; but never angry. I thought I was doing what was best for you when I left you. If I had had any idea…." he ran a hand over her tousled hair. "I made a mistake. I won't make it again."

"What do you mean?" Llynya looked at him in confusion.

"Come back to Hadrian's wall with me. Stay with me."

"I…" she slid off his lap and blinked. She loved Gawain; loved the smell of him, the feel of him, the humour in his eyes and the kindness in his heart, but to go to the wall? That was an alien world, a _Roman_ world - how on earth would she fit in? What would she do there? The knights were often sent away on various missions; could she really endure a lifetime of waiting for him to return to her?

"Can I think about it?" she stammered. "I wasn't expecting this…"

He looked a little disheartened, but nodded. "Take as much time as you need, or as long as it takes to kill the beast anyway."

Getting to his feet he kissed her on the cheek. "We had better make our way to the tavern, most of the villagers are lying low, but I'd rather you stayed with me and the others. I imagine Louisa would be glad of the company as well."

Louisa. Llynya suddenly felt guilty at not thinking of the tavern owner sooner. She had already lost her son to the beast, and now Charlotte, whom she was obviously fond of, had also been taken from her. Goodness only knew what sort of a state she was in.

"you are right, we should go." Making a half-hearted attempt to tidy her hair, she gave up and let it hang loose; her appearance was the least of her worries after all. Slipping past Gawain, she waited as he closed the door behind them, and set off towards the tavern.

The sun was high , and Llynya blinked at the incongruous blue sky and bright sunlight. She had obviously slept longer than she had realised. Picking her way over the muddy divots that traversed the street, Llynya looked around cautiously. The village was quiet, although here and there the occasional person flitted, carrying water from the well or hefting a couple of logs into their houses. They nodded politely at the girl and the knight, but did not tarry; Charlotte's death was obviously common knowledge, and no-one dared to spend much time out in the open. Llynya glanced at Gawain and hurried her pace a little. She did not doubt that the knight would protect her if trouble arose, but she would be much happier when they were safely back indoors.

Pushing open the tavern door, Gawain gestured for her to go inside.

Bors grunted in acknowledgement as she passed, and Llynya gave a half-curtsey in reply. The big man was slumped against the wall and sharpening one of his blades with a whetstone. The other knights either sitting on the rough benches or leaning over a table that seemed to have some sort of plan or drawing inscribed upon it in charcoal. Smiling shyly as the knights looked around at her intrusion, she made her way over to the fire where Louisa sat slumped in a worn armchair.

"Louisa?" She touched the older woman's shoulder gently, wincing as she saw the depth of sorrow in the tavern owner's eyes. Louisa patted her hand absently and returned her attention to the fire. Stepping backwards, Llynya glanced around. Dynadan sat on a bench close to the knights. He seemed to have aged overnight; the air of quiet authority was gone, his posture defeated and his expression blank. Beside him sat Balan, fast asleep, his head resting upon the shoulder of a small worried looking woman that Llynya vaguely recognised as being his mother.

Her stomach rumbled insistently, and Llynya headed towards the kitchen. She had not eaten since the day before, and it seemed unlikely that the knights had been fed. Checking the cupboards she found a couple of loaves that seemed fairly fresh and carefully sliced them, wiping the plates as best she could. From the squarking coming from the chicken coop behind the tavern the birds had not been fed yet. If she was lucky then there would be eggs to be collected, she thought to herself; although she would have to ask someone to accompany her - the thought of coming face to face with either the beast or Tauleas was not particularly enticing. Grabbing the little wicker basket that Louisa used to gather the produce of her flock and tucking a half filled bag of grain into it, Llynya made her way back to her companions. Gawain, Arthur, Tom and Dagonet were conversing around the main table, and she hesitated a moment, unwilling to interrupt them.

"Llynya?" The voice beside her made her jump, and she turned to see Lancelot sitting beside the door. Physically he looked much better: the dark eyes were clear, and although he was sitting a little stiffly, at least he was up and moving around. His expression told a different story however, and she wondered just how hard Charlotte's death had affected him.

"Sir," Llynya gave a muddled half nod-half curtsey . "I hope that you are feeling better."

"I'm fine." He nodded at the basket she carried. "Where are you off to?"

"Oh." She looked down, a little flustered, "I was going to feed the chickens, I thought I should ask someone to come with me."

"Very sensible." The dark knight got to his feet with a wince, "can't have you wandering about on your own, especially after what happened to…" his voice trailed off, and Llynya shot him a covert glance. His eyes seemed to darken further, and noticing her scrutiny he raised an eyebrow and settled his features back into his usual slightly sardonic expression. "Shall we?" he gestured to the door with exaggerated politeness.

"Are you sure?" Llynya asked hesitantly, "You're hurt, I don't want to…"

Lancelot huffed a sigh that he barely managed to prevent turning into a wince. Reaching out he took her elbow firmly, pushing her back towards the kitchen. "I have you to protect me Llynya, after witnessing your spectacular battle prowess against the woads, I am in no doubt that we will be quite safe."

Llynya wrinkled her nose in mock annoyance, but let the subject drop. If Lancelot wanted to mask his feelings with humour then she was inclined to let him do so - after all hadn't she done her very best to run from the memories of her village?

It was only a short walk to the chicken runs, although Lancelot was slightly breathless when they reached them. Glancing at him surreptitiously, Llynya prayed that he would not fall, and wondered if he would let her help him if she did. There was no sign of the beast; indeed save for the chickens and the old mare that was tethered nearby, there was no sign of life at all. Unlatching the gate and tossing the grain to the birds, Llynya stepped carefully through the scurrying chickens to the hen houses, deftly plucking two dozen eggs from the straw and avoiding the outraged squawking of the elderly cockerel.

"Done?" Lancelot watched as she carefully latched the gate behind her and showed him the fruits of her expedition.

"Good hens," Llynya smiled, glad to have something neutral to talk about for once. "I expect that you'd be glad of a decent breakfast, it must have been a while since you last ate anything."

Lancelot shrugged, wincing as pain shot down his injured shoulder. "Aye, I could eat."

Smiling as he gestured for her to enter the tavern first, she made her way to the kitchen and dragged out the heavy metal skillet, one eye always alert to anything that might move outside the tiny window.

* * *

Breakfast was devoured swiftly and gratefully by the knights, ignored by Dynadan and Louisa, and accepted with tentative thanks by Balin and his mother. Llynya curled onto a bench a little back from the knights and listened to their plans. From time to time Gawain would glance back at her and smile, occasionally getting up on the pretext of checking that nothing was happening outside and running a hand over her shoulder as he passed. There were still lookouts from the village posted in several places, but since the death of Charlotte and the two sentries, everyone was on edge, and few people ventured outside.

Lark had been the recipient of several crusts of bread by knights beguiled by her liquid eyes and pitiful expression, and Llynya had been hard pressed not to laugh when the usually rough Bors had slipped her a piece of bread after checking that no-one was looking. Now she lay curled at Llynya's feet, her paws twitching as she chased rabbits in her dreams. Llynya was grateful of her presence as she rested her chin on her hand and watched the knights argue and debate various plans. Strategy after strategy was discussed and discarded: a pit - too obvious, and impossible to disguise if Tauleas was watching the village. A hunt too dangerous - the horses were unpredictable around the beast, and it was not territory that they were familiar with. As recent events had shown, the hunters could all too easily turn into the hunted. Reasoning with Tauleas seemed pointless, for as Balin agreed sadly, the man was no longer interested in peace. Louisa had spoken up at that, her dim eyes finally regaining a little of their usual life.

"Conviction can devour a man's heart and turn him into a beast," Louisa said quietly. "He is not a man anymore, he cares not for those he destroys."

"A thirst for justice," Galahad said slowly.

Arthur shook his head, "revenge."

Tristan had nodded at that, his hawk stretching her wings and rattling the bells on her jesses. He had let Llynya stroke the bird when she had given him his breakfast and tentatively offered yesterdays bacon rinds as a meal for his companion. The bird was haughty and beautiful, and inwardly she had smiled at how similar the man and his pet were in both attitude and demeanour. Llynya watched the beautiful animal preen it's feathers and managed to drag her attention back to the discussion.

"It might work," Tom said slowly, "but there is no room for error."

"Agreed." Arthur ran a hand through his tousled hair and sighed. "The only problem is getting it into position. We need something for it to go for, we need…"

"Bait." Llynya said quietly, she could see the plan inscribed upon the worn table, had heard enough to know what they were planning. "It won't go for Dynadan : Tauleas wants him to suffer, and I don't think he wants Balin dead. It's already tried to attack me once, use me."

"Llynya, no!" Gawain got up swiftly and looked at his commander. "Arthur, tell her…"

But Arthur's eyes were fixed on the young woman who sat frightened but defiant across from him.

"Do you know what you are saying Llynya?" he asked quietly.

"Yes." She nodded, not daring to look at Gawain. Squaring her shoulders she gave a half smile, "she was my friend."

Arthur nodded in understanding, "then it is settled, tomorrow we fight."

**A/N Thanks very much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter - I value all your opinions. Please feed the author lol**


	21. Chapter 21

**Disclaimer: Nothing you recognise belongs to me.**

**WARNING!**

**I think this chapter should probably be rated M. For people not of age or who are not keen on (fairly tame) smut and want to read the chapter, either send me a PM or email me (my address is on my profile page) and I'll send you a pg version of the chapter. There is some sexual content in this chapter.**

_Interlude._

As the sun set, Llynya was half escorted, half dragged back to their quarters by a very irate blond knight. Unable to actually shake her, lock her in the cellar, or even berate her while she was in Arthur's presence, Gawain had been forced to sit with a studied calm that went against his very nature, as Arthur discussed the trap that they would set and Llynya's part in it. The plan seemed fairly solid, or as solid as one could be with a million different possibilities to be taken into account. They simply did not have the knowledge to do anything beyond guess at the behaviour of the beast, and he was well aware that guesswork was a very dangerous thing when it came to weighing up an enemy.

Llynya had kept herself busy; making a stew out of a large cut of meat and a small basket of vegetables that had been delivered by a small boy, who was obviously not sure whether he should be more afraid of the beast or the big Roman and his knights. The boy had fled as soon as he had delivered the food, and Llynya had vanished into the kitchen to prepare it. Handing the stew out, she had not met Gawain's eyes, obviously aware of his disapproval, and he had had to clench his fists in attempt not to drag her out of the tavern and shake some sense into her. Tending Louisa, who seemed to barely remember her name, let alone care about what was happening, Llynya managed to persuade the older woman to change her clothing and eat a little of the stew, before putting her to bed. Balan watched her with shadowed eyes, his hand clenched tightly around his mother's, and obviously clueless as to what the knights were discussing. Gawain however was not, and his heart sank at the very real danger that Llynya had so thoughtlessly volunteered to face.

Now, alone and barely keeping his temper in check, Gawain looked at the woman he loved and wasn't sure whether to kiss her or strangle her.

"What were you thinking?" he tossed his sword and axe into the corner of the room they shared and looked at the young woman furiously. "This isn't a game Llynya, what on earth possessed you to offer yourself up like that?"

"Possessed me?" she did not flinch at his anger, crossing her arms over her chest and looking at him defiantly. "It is my life that is in danger, it is my right to decide if I wish to risk it."

"And you think that by endangering your life you'll what? Bring your village back, bring Charlotte back? It doesn't work like that Llynya, it.."

"Don't talk about them like that," she snarled. "I know I can't bring them back, but I can help those who are left."

"By killing yourself?"

Llynya glared at him and made for the door, only to be hauled back by a strong arm around her waist.

"Let me go," she spat at him, "I am not your property, it's not your choice to make."

"Not my choice?" he released her and watched as she stalked over to the fireplace. "The woman I love has a death wish, there are strange beasts gallivanting around the countryside, and I am fighting for a country I do not believe in and for a village that I have no loyalty for and no ties to. You are right Llynya, I have no choice in the matter at all."

Llynya frowned and narrowed her eyes. "Say the first bit again."

"I said that there is a tiger out there and you shouldn't be putting yourself in harms way."

"Not that bit." Llynya watched him carefully. "You said the woman you…" her voice faltered.

"Loved." Gawain ran a hand through his tangled mane and sighed. "I've loved you since I've known you Llynya, and the gods know I've tried not to. Please don't do this, don't put yourself in danger."

"You are worried because _I _am putting myself in danger?" Llynya looked at him incredulously. "You expect me to watch you ride off into battle with no idea if you will return in one piece, or at all!"  
"That's different," Gawain growled, "I don't have a choice."

"It's not different, it's worse," Llynya snapped. Brushing her unruly hair from her eyes, she glared at him fiercely. "I have spent too long watching people I care about being killed, watching the destruction of innocent lives. I can help these people, I can do something other than cower in the shadows this time. At least I'm putting my life at risk for the right reasons."

"A village that is up to it's ears in corruption? A plan thought up by Tom, a man who near drank himself to death and was shipped over here to stop him killing himself or anyone else?"

Llynya paused at that. "Tom? I didn't…"

"Few do." Gawain slumped onto the bed, some of the fight leaving him. "Arthur got him out of Rome; he killed a soldier in a bar fight. He used to be master of horses to the second in command of the emperor, but after his wife died of the fever he lost his mind for a while. He taught the knights and I to ride, Arthur arranged for him to be shipped here before he could be tried and most likely used as sport in the gladiator arenas. I am fond of Tom, but I am not sure that I trust his judgement."

"He saved my life," Llynya said quietly, "I trust him."

"Maybe so," Gawain replied, "but this… thing, that we are facing is unpredictable. Woads, Saxons, that we can defeat. This is unknown, and as much as I trust my brothers, I do not know what will happen tomorrow - I cannot guarantee your safety."

"Nothing in this life is certain," Llynya said, walking over to him. "Not our lives, not our hearts." She cupped his chin gently and brushed her fingers over the stubble that marred the softness of his skin. "But we can choose what to believe in. We can make the decision to fight or run." She let him pull her down so that she was straddling his lap, and looked into the bright blue eyes. "I choose to fight."

"You will be the death of me," he whispered, flipping her over onto the bed and kissing her hungrily. His boots were discarded hurriedly, his hauberk cast aside and covered with Llynya's dress as soon as she had wriggled out of it. Gasping as he placed hot kisses upon her belly, she wondered if she should stop, wondered what people would think, and realised that it didn't matter. She could be dead tomorrow, they could all be dead tomorrow, but she would have this; come what may, she would have this night. It was hot and sweet. His hands were big and roughened from battle, his kisses fierce. Llynya clung to him with the desperation of one who knows that she is drowning, kissing him back, pulling at his clothes. He might have been talking, it might have been her whimpering; she didn't take any notice, she didn't really care. Wrapping her legs around him, she bit his shoulder as he entered her - the beast, the future forgotten, nothing mattered but the flex of his muscles beneath her fingers, nothing mattered but the taste of his skin and his sweat and bright blaze of pleasure and desperation as the world shattered around her. He found his own release with a primal growl, and pulled her close, the thundering of their hearts and harsh breaths loud in the silence of the room.

They lay together for a long time afterwards, sticky and sated, Llynya's cheek resting against his chest, his arm resting upon the curve of her waist.

"You are going to do it aren't you?" he said quietly.

She nodded slightly, but did not look up. " I have to."

"I understand. I don't like it, but I understand." Pulling the blanket up over them, he kissed her forehead. "And afterwards?"

"I will go with you. I will go to the wall."

He slipped into slumber then, his face almost boyish, the sweat cooling beneath her fingertips as she placed her hand over his heart.

"I love you," she whispered, but he was lost in dreams, and she followed him gratefully, her chin against his shoulder and her breath a faint ghostly plume dancing with his in the cold night air.

* * *

The night passed too quickly, as all good things seemed to, thought Llynya ruefully. She realised that Gawain was awake as he had tightened the arm that encircled her waist when she had first opened her eyes, but feigning slumber, she tucked her head against him and made the most of the few last moments of peace. Outside was death and revenge and sorrow. Here was peace and warmth and a love that she had almost turned herself inside out to forget.

"Is it morning?" she muttered to his chest.

"It is perhaps an overly bright dawn," he replied. "Stay where you are."

"Liar," she whispered, kissing his shoulder. "Do you really want your fellow knights to find us like this?"

"I once found Lancelot with a…" Gawain looked down at Llynya and laughed. "Never mind."

She smiled, untangling herself from the bedclothes and padded across the room, kneeling beside the pail of water that had been brought with an armful of firewood by an unknown villager the day before. Gasping a little at the coldness of the water, Llynya did her best to clean herself. Her dress was dirty, but having nothing else to wear she slipped it on anyway.

"We should go." She twisted her hair into a rough knot at the back of her head. "They will be waiting for us."

"Lynya?" Gawain had slipped from the bed, his broad chest gilded by the sunlight, his expression solemn. "It is not too late to change your mind. "

She smiled a little at that. "It was too late a long time ago. I am not afraid." Turning to look at the blond knight, she ran her eyes over him. It seemed a thousand years and just yesterday since they had met. Her village, Charlotte, the other knights and her obligations chased circles around her mind, but her heart had only ever followed one compass: _wherever you go I will follow._

Slipping out of the door she left Gawain, unwilling to wait for him and too afraid to say goodbye.

**A/N Sorry, sorry - very short chapter, but I'm losing internet access from Friday and wanted to put this up incase I lost it. As ever, huge thanks to the lovely reviewers from the last chapter. Reviews stop authors from becoming paranoid lol.**


	22. Chapter 22

**Disclaimer: Nothing you recognise belongs to me.**

The knights had been busy, Llynya noted as she made her way into the main street. A small crowd of villagers milled beside the pig pen, watching as Bors and Dagonet hefted a huge log down towards the barn. Llynya watched them struggle with their burden and shrugged. She had an idea what they were doing, but supposed that she would find out for sure later. A short joyous bark announced Lark's arrival, and Llynya bent down to pet the dog, grinning as it licked her fingers and danced around her legs.

"Llynya." Tom walked over to the girl and unsuccessfully tried to bring Lark to heel. "Did you sleep well?"

Trying not to blush, she nodded. "Like a baby," she said innocently, without meeting his eyes. "Is everyone well?"

"As well as to be expected," he said with a yawn. He glanced at Llynya and then at Gawain, who was wandering over towards them. Both the knight and the girl looked tired but happy, and he stifled a smirk. It was obvious that sleep had been the last thing on their minds when they had retired to their chambers.

"Tom." The blond knight placed a possessive hand on Llynya's shoulder and nodded at the old tracker. "Have you seen Arthur this morning?"

"He's over at the tavern," Tom jerked his head towards the large building. "He'll probably want to see you both, it won't be long before everything is ready."

"Alright." Gawain glanced at Llynya, feeling her muscles tense beneath his fingers, and bit back another attempt to talk her out of risking her life. She had already made her choice - any attempts at changing her mind were doomed to failure; he would just have to make sure that he kept a careful eye on her. "We had best be off then."

Llynya gave Lark a last pat and smiled at Tom before following Gawain to the tavern. She was nervous, the first trickle of adrenaline buzzing through her veins and tightening her belly, and in search of comfort she slipped her hand into his. He looked down and smiled reassuringly at her, squeezing her hand, and she felt some of her apprehension slip away. She wasn't facing this alone; Gawain, Arthur and the knights would be with her, she trusted them to keep her safe.

The tavern was buzzing with activity. A small boy raced from the doorway, skidding in front of Gawain and looking at him with wide-eyes, before scampering off down the road, a large length of rope looped over his shoulder. A dozen villagers were in deep discussion with Arthur and Galahad, Lancelot sitting nearby and obviously questioning a reluctant Balan. Several people looked up and nodded or smiled at the new arrivals, a few looking at Llynya with a mixture of apprehension and respect. She gave as best a smile she could to them and followed Gawain over to Arthur.

"Gawain, Llynya. I trust you slept well?" There was an unmistakable flicker of amusement in the big Roman's eyes, and Galahad was doing nothing to disguise his smirk. This time it was Gawain's turn to look uncomfortable.

"Fine. How long before the trap is ready?"

"A couple of hours perhaps. It's coming on faster than I could have anticipated - of course guaranteeing when the beast will turn up is a different matter." Arthur turned his gaze to the dark-haired girl before him. "Are you sure that you want to do this Llynya? No-one will blame you if you have changed your mind."

She shook her head emphatically. "No. I'm ready, tell me what to do and I'll do it."

"Very well, I admire your courage."

Llynya blushed at that; she admired Arthur, but it was still a little overwhelming for a nonentity like her to be complimented by a Roman commander, and a legendary one at that. "Thank you Sir," she mumbled. "I will do what I can."

Arthur smiled down at her. " You are not needed for the moment, would you check Louisa? I fear that she is a little overwhelmed by recent events."

_That was the understatement of the century, _Llynya thought to herself. Giving a brief curtsey, she went to find the tavern owner.

* * *

"Brother." Lancelot's dark eyes studied Gawain appraisingly as the blond man approached him. "How are you faring?"

Gawain shrugged. "As well as anyone else I suppose. What about you? Are you healing?"

"I'm fine." He flexed his shoulder and winced, earning himself a rathersardonic smile from his companion. "What about Llynya, have you managed to talk her out of this foolishness?"

Gawain shook his head, his expression momentarily hidden by his mass of blond braids. "She's made her mind up. Short of locking her in the cellar, there is not much I can do."

"You could always shut her in the attic," Lancelot said, only half joking. "Given my present state I'll probably be hiding up there myself by the end of the day."

Gawain noted the bitterness in his friend's voice and guessed the cause. "Heal, Lancelot. Live to fight another day. There is nothing to be gained by getting yourself killed." He gave a short laugh, "besides who's going to keep Arthur in line if you aren't here to argue with him?"

"Idealistic idiot," Lancelot muttered, running a hand through his dark curls. "I don't know why he doesn't get down on his knees and pray for his God to strike Tauleas down with a lightning bolt."

"Ah he's Roman," Gawain shrugged. "You know they have to make a big production out of things."

"Hmmph," Lancelot snorted. "Tauleas is Roman and he's certainly taken his revenge pretty seriously. If he had gone after Dynadan then I'd understand it, but children, women, Charlotte?" he almost choked on the last word. "This is mindless slaughter, not revenge."

"And it is up to us to stop it," Gawain said quietly. Squeezing his friend's arm, he pushed himself away from the table he had been leaning against. "She will be avenged, all those who died at his hands will be avenged. Do you know where Tristan is?"

"On the roof, where else? Him and his bloody bird, not sure which of them has the sharper eyes." Lancelot gave a half smile and watched his friend walk over to Arthur. "Gawain, " he called suddenly.

The blond knight looked back at him. "Yes?"

"You love her don't you." Brown eyes met blue, and Gawain nodded his head. "Keep her safe, don't let her out of your sight." Turning his head away, Lancelot slid off the table with difficulty and headed to Arthur, his friend watching and wishing that he could take away his guilt along with his pain.

* * *

Llynya settled Louisa as best she could. She brushed out the woman's long dark hair and managed to get her to swallow half a cup of yesterday's soup, but it was obvious that the woman cared little for what happened either to herself or those around her. Settling her into the chair beside the fire, and at a loss as to what else she could do for her, Llynya went to the kitchen. There was a joint of cured ham in the cellar, and someone had left several loaves on the sideboard. She wasn't hungry, and from the activity in the main room most people probably didn't have time to eat, but it gave her something to do, and it was far better than sitting and dwelling upon what was to come. She looked at the newly mended kitchen door as she carried the food to the others and repressed a shudder. How many times had she re-lived that moment? The crash of the beast through the door, the thunder of her heart, Charlotte's small fingers clutched in hers. Shoving the memory aside, she set the tray on the table and poured a small goblet of wine from the pitcher that had already been set upon the table. Feeling the welcome burn as the liquid hit her stomach, she sighed. She would need all the courage she could get today, and if a little alcohol would numb the fear slightly then she would take it, and gladly.

"Rather early for that isn't it?" Glancing around, she found Lancelot watching her, his eyebrows raised above his wicked dark eyes.

"When you offer yourself asdinner for the beast, then and only then, can you tell me what to do," Llynya said crossly. "I'm not getting drunk if that's what you are implying."

"I wasn't implying anything." He looked pale and tired, and Llynya shifted uncomfortably, a little embarrassed at having snapped at him.

"Are you hungry?" she asked, "is there anything I can get you?"

He gave something between a laugh and a sigh. "Don't fuss over me Llynya, you have enough to worry about as it is. Sit down, eat, drink. Let this lot take care of themselves for a moment."

"I'm alright sir," Llynya wasn't quite sure how to react to this newly introspective Lancelot. He had not looked at the two girls who were obviously Balan's sisters, and ignored their flirtatious glances. The witty banter was gone, as was some of the arrogance that had seemed as much a part of him as his hair, his eyes, his skin.

Llynya picked up her goblet and sat down beside him, for once not intimidated by the dark knight. Taking a sip of wine, she licked her lips thoughtfully before speaking.

"What was Charlotte to you?" At any other time she would never have spoken so boldly, but after all, she reasoned, if she could risk her life then she could risk his anger.

He looked surprised at the question, studying her for several moments before he replied. "I don't know," he said honestly. "I liked her, I liked her spirit. She was young and beautiful, and when she needed protection I was not there."

"I wasn't there either," Llynya said quietly.Looking down at her goblet, she searched in vain for the right words. "You were unconscious, there was nothing you could have done. I watched her run off, I wasn't fast enough to catch her. She didn't deserve to die like that."

"No," Lancelot sighed heavily, "she didn't." Glancing over to his commander and fellow knights, he watched Gawain shoot him a warning glance and almost smiled. "He loves you," he said, nodding towards the big blond man.

"And I love him," Llynya whispered. "If anything happens, I mean… You are brothers, you take care of each other don't you?"

"Aye, we do." Lancelot quirked an eyebrow at her, "but I won't have to look after Gawain. That's your job now, and if you think any of us are going to let anything happen to you then you are sadly mistaken. You don't get away from him that easily."

Llynya laughed at that. "With friends like you I'm surprised he bothers fighting Woads; his efforts would be better spent closer to home."

"He knows better than to face me," Lancelot replied with a little of his old arrogance. "I knew him when he didn't know his axe from his arse."

"Nice image," Llynya muttered, sliding off the table. Bors had just entered the tavern, and with a sinking feeling she realised that the trap was probably ready. The big man spoke several words to Arthur, and when the Roman turned his head to look at her, she nodded to show that she was ready, and hoped to the Gods that she did not look as afraid as she felt.

"Llynya." Lancelot's voice was gentle, and she glanced at him with wide, frightened eyes. "It'll be alright."

She didn't say anything, just patted his arm in thanks and walked over to Arthur and his knights, towards the men with whom she had entrusted her life.

* * *

Tugging her borrowed cloak around her, Llynya shivered a little in the breeze. It was late afternoon and the sun was slowly sliding behind the hills, it's light gilding the village buildings and turning the forest to copper flame. How long had she been out here? Twenty minutes? An hour? A year? It was hard to tell, and although sheknew that she was watchedby the knights, all were hidden and none were able to speak to her. At first she had been terrified; sure that as soon as she set foot outside the beast would pounce, or she would suddenly find an arrow embedded in her chest. Silly thoughts given that she had crossed that very same path only hours before. Gawain had been with her then however, and there had been other people to nod to, other people to shout at the first sign of danger. Now she was alone, the meadow vast before her, the long grass whispering secrets she did not understand, the forest unfathomable behind it.

Brushing her hair from her eyes, she made a show of scrubbing the bucket that she had dragged from the well. She had already made a show of feeding the chickens, her hands shaking so that the seed fell in erratic patterns, and had given up collecting eggs after she had inadvertently crushed the first one she had collected when one of the chickens sqwarked behind her. The terror had subsided to a jittering underlying fear, and truth be told, a little boredom. She had to keep herself busy, for even someone as mad as Tauleas would find a girl standing idly in full view of the beast suspicious. With any luck he would see her attending her chores and merely think her as half-witted as Balan. Wrinkling her nose as the cold water splashed her ankles, she glanced back towards the village. The villagers were safe beneath the barn, although it had taken Tom and a local lad to get Louisa to move from the tavern. Had she not known better she would have thought it a ghost town, for nothing moved save the ghostly shape of Tristan's hawk wheeling high above.

For a moment she mistook the shrill sound for the bird's cry, and looked up curiously, only to realise that the hawk was no longer in sight. Sliding in the mud, she turned back towards the meadow and froze. The beast was leaping through the grass, racing at a speed she barely thought possible, it's eyes a flash of green fire, it's coat as bright and beautiful as the setting sun. Unable to move, time stretched and flowed around her. The pail she had been holding fell to the ground almost in slow motion, her heart seemingly taking years between each beat.

"Run!" She wasn't sure who was shouting, but it was enough to break her trance, and stumbling backwards, she turned and fled, falling to her knees, she barely noticed the stones scraping her palms or her muscles protesting as she scrambled to her feet. Her breath sharp in her lungs and her heart beating a wild tattoo in her chest, she forced herself faster, the surroundings a blur, the stony ground flashing between her pounding feet. She was close, so close, putting on a last burst of speed, she let out a sharp cry as her foot caught on a jagged rock, sending her tumbling to the ground and knocking the wind from her lungs. _Oh Gods, not fast enough, not fast enough…_ Gasping, she pulled herself to her knees and looked back. The tiger approached slowly, teeth bared, the huge paws padding inexorably towards her. Well aware that there was no hope of outrunning it, Llynya closed her eyes and almost stopped breathing. She could smell the rank smell of it's breath, feel the warmth of it's body as it approached her. Swallowing hard, she prayed that death would be swift.

**A/N Giggle sorry - couldn't resist a cliff hanger - feel free to call me rude names. I promise I will update very soon ( internet is sorted, yay!). Thank-you very much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter.**


	23. Chapter 23

**Disclaimer: nothing you recognise belongs to me.**

Llynya froze. She could feel the dampness of the ground seeping through her thin dress, could feel every sharp ridge and ripple of the stones beneath her palm. She did not dare move, and as the beast padded closer, it's huge muzzle nuzzling her back, it's breath warm against her damp skin, she stopped breathing. Somewhere deep within her mind something shifted and mercifully shut out the horror. There was only so much fear a person could take, and she turned her head to look at the tiger; curious, terrified and almost accepting of her fate.

_Beautiful, _she thought almost dispassionately. _This was the last thing that Charlotte saw: this is fire and claws and the hybrid of a thousand tales of monsters told to get young children to bed. _She could feel the tickle of its whiskers against her neck, the slide of silky, powerful muscles as it brushed her shoulder, and fought impotently against her fear. She was close - so close. The knights were obviously unwilling toloose their arrowswhile she was in such close proximity to the target - it was up to her to give them a clear shot.

Stretching her fingers out slowly, she wrapped her fingers around a large chunk of rock. The beast growled lowly, obviously waiting for a command, and Llynya tried to keep herself as still as possible. At the sound of another whistle she moved as swiftly as the beast, rolling onto her back and swinging the rock at the tiger's muzzle. The beast snarled with shock and pain, swiping at its bloody nose with a huge paw. Llynya did not wait to see if her plan had been successful. Throwing herself forward and scrambling to her feet, she raced towards the tavern, barely dodging the arrow that thudded into the ground beside her. She had a couple of seconds head start at best, and now Tauleus was shooting at her. Dodging sideways, she gained a few precious seconds when the beast snarled in pain as one of the knights' arrows pierced it's flank.

"Run Llynya!" It could have been Gawain calling, it could have been her long dead mother - it could have been Arthur's God urging her faster for all she knew, but she heard the call and heeded it. Racing around the corner beside the barn into the narrow alley, she recognised Bors's voice and threw herself to the floor at his shouted command. The tiger was almost upon her, there was no room for error. Squashing herself as tightly as she could into the wet ground, she barely heard the thud of the axe as it severed the rope above her, but the hiss of the log swinging down bare inches from her head was impossible to ignore, as was the snarling cry of rage and pain behind her. Glancing back, she ducked as the piece of wood studded with metal and now dripping with blood, swung back over her and shuddered to a halt as Bors and Dagonet grabbed the ropes that held it.

The beast had been thrown backwards by the impact of the log, it's body crashing against the side of the barn. Llynya scrambled backwards and felt herself pulled to her feet roughly by Gawain.

"Stay here." Kicking down one of the fences that surrounded the pig pen, he shoved the trembling girl into the shelter. "I mean it Llynya, stay here."

She nodded mutely, her mind whirling, as she collapsed upon the dirty straw. She could still feel the beast's breath upon her skin, could hear it's low rumbling growl. Getting to her knees, she poked her head out of the hut. It was not difficult to see what was happening. Galahad and Dagonet held blazing torches, the light flickering in the gloom and casting strange shadows upon an already dreamlike scene. The tiger snarled and bared it's teeth at the men before it,the green eyes a blaze offury and pain.The beast was obviously badly hurt: the bright coat was dark with blood, it's breathing laboured. Snarling, it made an abortive attempt to spring at Arthur, only to fall back as the Roman sliced forward with Excalibur, the sword opening a deep wound in the beast's neck. Struggling to it's feet, it roared once in pain and defiance, before falling onto its side. The knights watched intently, their weapons shining in the faint light, their eyes ablaze, as Arthur walked towards the fallen creature and with a harsh cry, severed it's head from it's body.

"It's over," Llynya whispered to herself, getting to her feet and brushing the straw from her knees.

"Hardly." She yelped and turned so fast that she almost fell over, at the voice behind her.

"Calm down Llynya," Lancelot looked almost amused. "You didn't think Gawain would leave you alone without someone to keep an eye on you did you?"

"I can take care of myself." The words were defiant, and squaring her shoulders, Llynya looked at the dark knight lounging against the fence with a bravado that was neither genuine nor particularly convincing.

"Yes, you seemed to be doing a marvellous job of that so far. Was falling down in front of the beast part of the plan or improvisation on your part? If Gawain dies of a heart attack in the near future then I will hold you personally responsible."

"It was muddy." Llynya took a deep breath and put out a hand to steady herself against the pig shelter. The adrenaline was leaving her system, leaving her muscles weak and trembling, her heart fluttering in her chest like a trapped butterfly.

"Are you alright?" Lancelot looked at her with concern, and Llynya nodded, sinking to her haunches as the world seemed to spin around her.

"Fine." Closing her eyes, she struggled to find her equilibrium. _Come on girl, don't fall apart now, _she mentally berated herself. Taking a deep breath, she shook her head to clear it, and gave Lancelot a lopsided smile. "I'm alright." Waving away his outstretched hand, she managed to get to her feet . "It was just a bit…"

Lancelot nodded, his eyes glinting with a little of their old wickedness. "Yes, I suppose it was."

"Llynya?" Gawain glanced at Lancelot before walking swiftly over to the young girl still half-propped against the pig shelter. "What were you.. I thought…" growling, he abandoned his admonishment and pulled her against his chest, burying his face in her dirty, tangled hair.

"Oof." Llynya hugged him back for a moment, before struggling free. "Sorry, couldn't breathe." Looking up at him, she lifted a hand and brushed a heavy lock of golden hair from his brow. His eyes were dark, his expression worried as he ran his eyes over her, checking for injuries.

"I'm alright." He met her eyes and she gave him the first genuine smile of that evening. "It was a close thing, but I'm alright, and the beast is dead."

"Aye, it is." He cupped her chin and ran a rough thumb over her cheek. "Tauleas is still out there however, and I cannot imagine that the loss of his pet will put him in a very good temper. The village is not safe, _you_ are not safe."

"But they will be." She kissed his palm as he dropped his hand from her face. "One man against Arthur and his legendary knights? He might as well give up now."

"That is a very dangerous assumption," Gawain said, grasping her hand and helping her over the remains of the fence he had destroyed earlier. "The beast might be dead, but remain on your guard. Promise me that you will stay close, either to me or my brothers."

Llynya noted the tension in his voice, felt his big hand almost crushing her fingers, and realised that Gawain had had to stand back and watch while she was almost killed earlier. What would she have done had their roles been reversed? Certainly she doubted that she could have controlled her emotions with the same discipline that he used to hold his in check. Attempting to lighten his mood a little, she squeezed his hand and quirked a smile up at him.

"Now I've fought Woads _and_ a tiger. All I need to do now is kill a few Saxons and Arthur might make me one of his knights."

"Wench." Gawain gave her a brief one-armed hug, but seemed to relax a little. "When we get to the wall the only danger you will face will be pricking your finger on a sewing needle."

Llynya snorted in mock disgust, but moved a little closer to him. It was reassuring to know that he could still laugh, and gratifying to know that she was the one to bring him out of the horror of his life, even for only a moment.

The knights stood around the body of the beast, all of them alert with adrenaline and eager to fight. Arthur ordered Dagonet and Bors to free the villagers from their shelter, with the proviso that they return to their homes swiftly and kept on their guard, Tristan vanishing as swiftly as he had arrived to keep watch on the meadow. A couple of the braver village lads would join him in surveying the village, well aware that there was a rogue archer on the loose, and taking care to make sure that they did not present an easy target. Llynya blushed and bobbed a short curtsey when Arthur commended her for her courage, and was almost knocked flat when Bors patted her on the shoulder and joked that he thought "she'd had it for a moment, back there." Gawain had scowled at that, a response that went completely unnoticed by the older man.

Picking her way over to the crumpled body of the beast, Llynya crouched before it and cautiously touched it's silky fur. The giant paws were still, the severed head staring glassily at the evening sky, the huge teeth bared. It was beautiful and terrible even in death, and she wondered at such a strange creature being here in this tiny , ordinary village. A monster from a fairy tale brought to life and killed by heroes of legend. Heroes and a scruffy village girl with too many dreams and too little sense, she thought with a wry smile. Getting to her feet, she smiled at Dagonet as he passed, and followed Gawain back to the tavern.

**A/N Well my poppets, here is the resolution to that cliff-hanger. Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter - I hope this makes up for any distress caused (smile). Sorry, I didn't have time to reply to each review personally, but I did read them and appreciated all the comments. I felt a bit mean killing the beast - I'm a feline lover, asmy black cat sprawled on the table behind me will testify lol.**


	24. Chapter 24

**Disclaimer: nothing you recognise belongs to me.**

The tavern was quiet. Louisa was obviously still asleep, the villagers barricaded in their homes. Patting Lark, who seemed to think the arrival of all these people an exciting diversion from her usual solitary life, Llynya sat down on one of the benches and tucked her arms around her knees. She could not stop shaking, her body betraying the fear that she had tried so hard to conceal from Gawain and the knights. Every time she closed her eyes she felt the silky strength of the beast as it brushed against her, the harshness of it's breath against her neck. She could have died - by rights she _should_ have died. She had been lucky that's all - Charlotte had been braver than she, Tristan and Lancelot far more skilled in battle and still casualties to Tauleas and his vengeance. Sighing, she tucked her head into her knees and tried not to fall apart.

"Llynya?" The low voice was comforting, but unwilling to raise her tear-stained face to her lover, she settled for laying her head against his shoulder.

"Shh, love," Gawain said quietly. "It's alright."

She sniffled and gave a half laugh. "Yes, things are simply wonderful."

He huffed with amusement and dropped a kiss onto her head. "You were brave, you did well." Scooping her up, he settled her onto his lap, kissing her gently, running his rough hands through her hair and resting his forehead against hers. "Of course if you ever do anything like that again I'll lock you in the stables."

She smiled a little at his words . Pulling away, she looked at him defiantly. "I don't think so."

"Wench." Shaking his head, he watched as she slid off his lap. "Where are you going?"

"The privy." Disguising her embarrassment as annoyance, she wrinkled her nose at him. "I'd rather you didn't accompany me if it's all the same to you."

"Wouldn't dream of it. Be careful, if anything…"

Llynya rolled her eyes and snorted with exasperation. "I think I'll manage, thank-you all the same."

She tried to hide her smile as she left the room and headed for the little privy. Unlike most houses Louisa had installed a little room beside the kitchen for her patrons to relieve themselves. It was basic but fairly clean, and a blessing given that it did not necessitate leaving the building. Washing her hands and drying them on the scraps of cloth left for such a purpose, Llynya almost hit Balan when she opened the door.

"Balan?" Kicking the door shut behind her, she looked at the half-witted man with concern. "Are you alright?"

He looked at her with troubled eyes, his head shaking almost against his will, dancing from foot to foot. "It's not me, it's Louisa. She went outside and she wont come in."

"Louisa?" Llynya looked in the direction Balan was pointing and felt her heart sink. "She's out there?"

Balan nodded, unwilling to meet her eyes.

"Alright." Running her hand through her hair nervously, she turned to the young man. "Go, get Gawain, or any of the other knights, I'll try and get her to come back in."

Balan nodded, his fingers clenching and unclenching, and Llynya felt the first prickle of unease. "Balan, why did she go out?"

"Gone to find Charlotte and David," he muttered. "She thinks they are out there, that they aren't dead.."

Llynya nodded and went to the doorway, searching for the tavern owner in the darkness. She couldn't see very far, but glancing back, Balan had vanished and she felt safe enough to step out into the meadow. The knights would be mere seconds behind her, and sliding to one side, she ducked behind the wooden fence that was used to tether horses, her eyes scanning the surroundings for Louisa.

The blow to her head was swift and unexpected: crashing onto the muddy ground, Llynya choked as the breath was knocked from her body. Struggling to her feet and grabbing onto the tethering rail, she looked in disbelief at the man who had struck her.

"I'm sorry Llynya," Balan said brokenly. "He said he'd hurt my ma, he said.."

She took a step backwards, suddenly frightened at the expression in the young man's eyes.

"Balan? Where's Louisa, what's going on?"

"The bar woman is asleep 'far as I can tell." The voice behind her was quiet but unfamiliar, and Llynya looked around slowly, only to be halted by the cold sting of a blade against her neck. "Was you that killed Rutila, was you that led my cat into that trap." The young man holding the sword was filthy and unkempt, his hair long and matted, a few days growth of beard stubbling his face and chin. Swallowing with difficulty, Llynya met his eyes and felt her heart plummet. His eyes were beautiful, the crystalline blue of a summer sky: bright in the darkness, unafraid and utterly devoid of pity.

"Tauleas," she whispered.

"I see Balan's been talking about me." Grabbing her arm, he kicked her legs out from under her, his free hand clamping over his mouth and cutting off her cry of pain. "Never could keep your mouth shut could you Balan."

"Tauleas, don't. Please…" Balan took a step forward, his hands outstretched beseechingly. "She's nice, she isn't one of them.."

"Shut up!" Tauleas yanked Llynya's head back, the blade pressing into the delicate skin of her throat. "Rutila's dead because of this little bitch. She's going to pay for it - no more running, no more hiding. This ends tonight."

"She's just a girl. Please Tauleas, she's just a girl.." Balan was sobbing openly now, and taking two steps forward, he grabbed his friend's shoulder. "I can't let you. I won't.."

"You were a good friend to Shona, I thank you for that," Tauleas said thoughtfully. Kicking Llynya savagely in the side, he flung her to the ground and sliced forward with his blade.

Struggling to her hands and knees, Llynya gasped for breath, her ribs heaving and ablaze with pain. When Balan fell to the floor beside her, she barely managed to muster a whimper as he blinked at her once, his final breath a choked gurgle, his throat almost severed. Scrambling back from the growing pool of blood, she found herself jerked to her feet by her hair.

"Murderer," she hissed with difficulty. "Coward…"

Tauleas backhanded her brutally and clamped his hand over her mouth to stop her from crying out. Dimly Llynya felt him return the blade to her throat, feeling the warm trickle of blood flow down between her collar bones and soak her dress. _Her blood or Balan's?_ Her body was already consumed with agony and the question did not seem to matter.

"Murderer." Tauleas bent his head and nuzzled her cheek, holding her tight as she tried to squirm away. "Aye girl, I've killed. I've seen horror, I've seen death, and I've dealt it - I know what I am; ain't no place in heaven with the angels for me." He studied her face thoughtfully and gave her an almost tender smile. "I had an angel once, sweetest thing you ever saw. She was kindness and sweetness and everything that was good in this world. They let him kill her, they didn't care. String the bastard up and forget her, just like they forgot about my father, just like they forgot about the men they led to slaughter all those years ago." He sighed and kissed her hair. "They won't forget this, no-one will forget tonight."

His hand loosened from her mouth and Llynya took a deep breath of cold evening air. The knife was still against her throat, the blade cutting into her skin, and she knew that if she screamed then she would be dead long before anyone heeded her cry.

"Shona was innocent," she said softly, "but Balan said she was kind. Would she really want you to do this? Would she really want you to kill innocent people?"

"What do you know of things?" Tauleas snarled, tightening his grip. "You know nothing of her, or me. Justice will be done."

"Justice?" Tired and in pain as she was, Llynya remembered Charlotte, the misguided loyalty of Balan, and felt her anger rise. "You don't want justice," she spat, "you want revenge. What happened to you was horrible, what happened to Shona was horrible, but you're worse. You're worse than the people who did those things." Wrenching away from his hand, she fell to her knees and glared at him defiantly. " Go on, kill me. If you think that by spilling my blood you'll make things right then do it." She was breathing hard, her hair falling over her face and her eyes ablaze. "They can lay my body next to Charlotte's and the other innocent souls you slaughtered, and you'll still be here, suffering and alone. Dynadan betrayed the Romans because he had no choice. It was the Romans or the village - he had no choice."

Tauleas growled and grabbed her by the hair, dragging her to her feet and breathing hard, his face only inches from hers. "You lie, you.."

"I'm not lying," she spat. "I know I'll die here, I don't need to lie." Her eyes stung and she blinked back tears. "Don't you see what you've become?"

"It's for the best," he whispered. "Don't you see? It's all for the best." Briefly kissing her on the forehead, he yanked her head back and swung back his sword.

Llynya fell to the ground, her bruised body screaming at the impact, the breath knocked from her lungs. _It shouldn't hurt should it? When the wound is mortal it isn't supposed to hurt is it?_ she thought faintly. Tentatively opening her eyes, she came face to face with Balan's blank gaze and yelped. Pushing herself up, she found herself unable to move her lower body and panicked. _What had he done to her?_ Almost too afraid to look down, she froze as she saw the body of the young man collapsed upon her legs, an arrow deeply embedded in his back.

"Gods," she whispered, for a moment too shocked to do anything but stare at the dying Roman. He was still alive, his chest rising faintly, a bubble of blood bursting between his pale lips.

"Llynya." She looked around sharply, hardy daring to breathe. Tristan crouched behind her, his strange golden eyes gleaming in the darkness, one hand outstretched. "Can you walk?"

She nodded mutely, allowing him to pull her to her feet and trying not to wince. Tauleas's body rolled off her legs and she scrambled backwards when he started coughing.

"I…." She looked back at the body of Balan and swayed dizzily, the scout catching her and yelling for help.

Bursting through the doorway, several knights slid to a halt before the strange scene, Galahad and Dagonet circling the fallen bodies and watching the surrounding buildings warily.

"Llynya?" Gawain pushed past Arthur and gave a panicky look at Tristan. "Are you? Is she?"

"She'll be alright," the scout said quietly. Gently untangling Llynya's fingers from his hauberk, he nudged her towards the blond knight. "Go on girl, go to your man."

Llynya winced as Gawain pulled her against him, and struggled free from his embrace. Holding a hand to her side, she glanced back towards the fallen bodies.

"He's not dead, he killed Balan and he's not dead…"

"Alright." Careful not to hurt her, Gawain cupped her bruised cheek and nodded towards the tavern. "let's get you inside."

"No." Wriggling out of his embrace, she stumbled back to the fallen men. Balan was dead, but Tauleas watched her with opaque eyes, his breath coming in irregular gasps.

"Shona," he whispered.

"Llynya, don't." Gawain placed a hand on her shoulder and watched Tauleas warily

Llynya dropped to her knees, reaching out tentatively to touch the cheek of the dying man. "I'm sorry I'm not.." her voice trailed off.

"You should have seen her." Tauleas looked up blearily, the light already dying in his eyes. For a moment he raised himself into a sitting position and looked at her with a sweet sadness that was the only remaining echo of the boy he had once been. "You should have seen my Shona when she smiled." He fell backwards, the arrow forced even further into his body, his ribs rising and then hitching on the last breath he took.

Llynya looked at him with a strange mixture of pity, hatred and understanding. Leaning forward slowly, she brushed aside Gawain's hand and reached out towards the dead man. Closing his eyes, she muttered a brief prayer to her gods, ignoring the fact they would almost certainly been completely foreign to those that he worshipped.

"Go, " she whispered, " they are waiting for you."

Dizzily, she turned her attention to Balan, kissing his forehead and dimly hearing his mother scream behind her. Darkness was swift, merciful, and blessedly silent as she succumbed to exhaustion.

**A/N Only a couple of chapters left to go! Quick update because the story won't leave me alone and it's a good excuse to avoid writing my dissertation lol.**

**Some pointless trivia that someone bored might find interesting.**

**The names I use are Celtic:**

**Rutila: reddish gold hair**

**Shona: lucky (although perhaps not in this fic!)**

**Tauleas: A big knight mentioned in Malory's "Mort d'Arthur" Apologies to purists, I just liked the name. **

**Llynya's name actually comes from a name mentioned in the Doomsday book. The name was passed down from Roman times in my little village. We still have the remains of the Roman village - although it's little more than the outline of a few foundations and some bits and pieces now. Most kids in the surrounding schools get dragged around it on school trips at one time or another. I find it interesting though, and miraculously the Roman road that was built hundreds of years ago still survives and is now a bridle path that I quite often ride my horse down. Sadly I'm yet to come across any knights yet though "smiles".**


	25. Chapter 25

**Disclaimer: Nothing you recognise belongs to me.**

"What's going to happen to Dynadan?" Llynya sat cross-legged on the bet she shared with Gawain, the blond knight slumped beside her. "Is Arthur… I mean he isn't going to be…"

"Put to death?" Gawain ran a weary hand over his face. "No. No, although I'm not sure that he wouldn't welcome that sentence. He left this morning. He won't return here, and if he does… Well the villagers are angry, and with good reason. There is no place for him here anymore."

"So he's just going to wander the country alone?" Llynya fidgeted with the hem of her dress and shot Gawain a sideways glance. "Death would have been kinder."

He shrugged ruefully. "Perhaps so, but Arthur feels that enough blood has been spilt already. Tauleas is dead as is his beast. Dynadan only poses a threat to himself."

"I suppose so." Getting to her feet, Llynya winced a little. Her side still ached from Tauleas's blow, and her hip was a colourful rainbow of bruising. She had awoken in the tavern not long after passing out, Gawain holding her gently on his lap, the whimpers of grief from Balan's mother hushing the voices of the other knights. Dagonet had looked her over and assured Gawain that, bar a few bruises, she would be perfectly fine. In an attempt at lightening the moodGalahad had remarked with mock indignation that his friend was never that concerned with his own welfare, a joke that was studiously ignored by the other knight and the girl on his lap. Yesterday's events still seemed blurry and slightly unreal. Were it not for the freshly dug graves in the little cemetery and the tiger skin stretched out to dry outside the tavern and surrounded by awe-struck children, Llynya could almost fancy the whole thing a dream.

"Are you hungry?" Gawain asked quietly, "the villagers have organised a feast, or whatever passes for a feast in these parts. You will certainly be expected to make an appearance, after all you are something of a heroine in these parts now."

Llynya wrinkled her nose. "Let them pay tribute to Arthur and Tristan - to all of the knights. All I did was fall over, get captured and pass out. Hardly the stuff of legend."

Gawain laughed and shook his shaggy head. "You were very brave." Rising to his feet, he walked over to her and wrapped his arms around her waist. "Of course you were also reckless, stubborn and have probably aged me twenty years, but I am willing to overlook that."

Llynya snorted and snuggled into his embrace. "How very noble of you."

"Indeed." Kissing her on the forehead, he smiled down at her. "Never let it be said that Samartian knights are ever anything less than chivalrous."

"Except for Bors".

"Except for Bors," he agreed.

"And Lancelot," she added.

"Lancelot respects women," Gawain protested. "He just…" giving a sigh he rolled his eyes. "You win. And Lancelot."

Llynya laughed, eagerly lifting her mouth to his when he bent down to kiss her. Tangling her fingers into his hair and letting him wash away the tension, terror and grief of the past few days with the warmth of his body and strength of his love. It was several moments before she realised that the banging noise was not the sound of her heart slamming against her ribs.

"Gods," Gawain sighed, releasing her reluctantly. "This had better be good."

Yanking the door open, he came face to face with a grey haired lady who did not seem in the least bit intimidated by the big man glaring down at her.

"You must be Gawain," she said briskly, pushing past him and looking at Llynya appraisingly. "I've come for your lassie. And from the look of things not a moment too soon."

Llynya blinked and looked at the old woman. "Er, and you are?"

"My name is Cinnia. I run the bakery back behind the smithy." She tucked a stray lock of hair back into her bun and smiled. "Right grateful we are to you, girl. You and your man. Terrible business, terrible, but that's no excuse for turning up to a feast looking like something the cat's dragged in. Especially as cat's aren't particularly popular 'round here at the moment if you catch my meaning."

Llynya listened to this rather obscure comment with ill-concealed bafflement. "No, I suppose they aren't… Look I don't mean to be rude, but why are you here?"

"I've come to get you, I've said that already." Cinnia looked at the young girl as though she thought Llynya might be half witted. "There's a bath drawn for you at my house, and a change of clothes. Now the beast is dead and we don't have to skulk about like weasels we can show you proper Avebury hospitality." Turning away, she marched to the door.

_Weasels? _Llynya mouthed at Gawain incredulously. The woman was obviously mad - dimly she thought of Balan and wondered just how much inbreeding went on in the small village. Gawain merely shrugged, obviously highly amused by the whole thing.

"I'll see you later, Llynya," he said with as much innocence as his gruff voice could convey. "Have a nice bath - if you'd like some company…"

"There'll be none of that business, thank-you very much." Eying the blond knight with beady black eyes, Cinnia almost shoved Llynya out of the door. "And don't think that you are going to be disgracing your fellows by turning up like that. Take off your clothes."

Gawain looked at her, startled. "I beg your pardon…"

Gavin's bringing his tub over, and from the looks of things you are in dire need of it. I'll collect your clothes and do what I can with them," she looked unenthusiastically at the dirty hauberk and shirt that had been tossed into the corner. "As for your hair… If you cut it off you'd look so much better, a handsome young man like you - Davey's got a pair of scissors, I'm sure he'd…"

"No." Gawain took a step backwards, looking horrified. "That is, I er… no. Thank you."

"Are you sure?" Llynya watched his distress gleefully. "Perhaps you should shave your head like Dagonet and Bors. It'd be so much cooler in the summertime…"

Gawain's response was thankfully muffled as he kicked the door shut. Giggling, Llynya let the old woman usher her outside and towards the bakery.

* * *

Now this was perhaps something akin to Arthur's heaven, Llynya thought as she rinsed the last of the soap from her body. The cooling water in which she wallowed was discoloured by the mud and sweat that had accumulated over the past few days, her skin pink from the warm water. Squeezing most of the water from her long hair, she stepped out of the cast iron tub and wrapped a large piece of sacking around herself. She shivered a little as a draught eddied through the little stone room, but what utter bliss it was to be clean! This was the first time that she had ever had the luxury of a proper bath. Back in her village she had used the river to bathe in - the idea of owning a bath tub prohibitively expensive and impractical. Now, flushed and smelling of the lavender that Cinnia had thoughtfully added to the water, she finally understood the love the Romans had for their baths. 

On a chair in the corner a carefully folded pile of clothing rested. The garments had once belonged to Charlotte, and before picking them up, Llynya gave a brief prayer in the hope that her friend was happy wherever it is that people go when their souls departed. She had argued when Cinnia had pressed the clothing upon her; feeling it almost indecent to wear the things that had belonged to the dead girl, but Louisa, who had barely spoken a dozen words in the past few days, had finally persuaded her to take them. Charlotte would have enjoyed the feast, she thought with bittersweet memory. Perhaps her spirit would smile at the idea that at least her dress would be able to take part in the festivities.

Straightening her shift and pulling the dress over her head, she did what she could with the heavy mass of her dark hair and padded out into the hallway. Cinnia and Louisa were waiting for her in the kitchen, the older woman transferring a freshly baked batch of rolls into a big basket and blowing on her fingers when they proved to be a little hotter than expected.

"Llynya. How pretty you look dear." Louisa smiled as the young woman stepped a little shyly into the kitchen. While by no means the self-possessed woman she had been before, there was at least a little light in her eyes now: with the death of Tauleas and the beast she seemed to have reconciled at least a part of her sorrow. Llynya smiled at her - grateful for the reassurance and to see the woman who had been willing to take her in looking so much better.

"Yes lassie, you're almost presentable." Cinnia looked at Llynya as though she were a pastry she had baked that had turned out better than she had expected. "Blue suits you, you should wear it more often."

Llynya bit back a smile at that. Up until an hour ago her possessions had consisted of her shift, her shoes, her dress and the shawl that she had dropped by the river a week (or was it a thousand years?) ago. The colour of her garments was the least of her worries.

"Can I do anything to help?" she asked. "I can't tell you how grateful I am for the bath.

Cinnia nodded towards the two baskets that held the fresh rolls. "You can take them out, Just put them on the big table - you can't miss it." Llynya nodded, picking up the baskets and heading outside. Grinning at Louisa's warning not to get too dirty, she almost walked into Bors.

"'alright Llynya?" The big man smiled at her, relieving her of one of her baskets despite her protests. "You look nice; anytime you fancy leaving that hairball of a creature and finding out what a real man is like, then come find me."

Llynya laughed. She knew that Bors was joking and rolled her eyes at him exaggeratedly. "I'm sure that your lady would love to hear that. Gawain says that you're more scared of her than the Saxons."

Bors guffawed at the comment. "Well you ask Gawain about the time Van chased him 'round her tavern with her ladle after he started a fight. Then we'll see who's scared of whom."

"Really?" She looked at him with interest. "Vanora must be quite a woman."

"Oh she is," Bors smiled proudly. "Just wait until you meet her."

"I look forward to it." Handing the bread to a young lad who looked at her with ill disguised fascination, she turned as Arthur and Tristan walked up behind her.

"Sirs." She bobbed a curtsey to them.

"Llynya." The big Roman smiled at her warmly. "You are well I trust?"

"Very well, thank-you sir." She resisted a grin as Tristan gave a slight incline of his head towards her. She had learnt by now that the scout was not the most demonstrative of creatures. "It is pleasant to walk around without fear of being pounced upon is it not?"

"Indeed." Arthur laughed and watched as Tristan's hawk swooped down and settled upon his shoulder. "It seems that even Sky is looking forward to the feast."

Llynya smiled, and after asking permission, stroked the silky feathers of the bird's breast. "Given that there are half a dozen children watching her with fascination, I imagine that she will be a popular guest."

Tristan's mouth twitched in a faint smile, and Llynya stepped back. "Have you seen Gawain?" She looked at the two men with a mischievousness that she certainly wouldn't have dared a week ago. "Cinnea was threatening him with a bath - I am eager to know if he survived it."

Arthur laughed. "Look behind you. He is clean, but perhaps not in the best of tempers."

Llynya turned and could not help but grin as Gawain walked towards them. His hair gleamed gold and silky in the afternoon sunlight, his clothes mended and still a little damp from being washed. Running his eyes over her appreciatively he smiled.

"Beautiful."

She blushed and made a joke of the compliment. "Ah, you are far prettier than I am." Reaching out to touch a lock of his hair, she shook her head in warning. "Be careful that Louisa does not try and recruit you as a serving wench."

Arthur laughed and clapped his knight on the shoulder as he passed. "Save it for later, the feast is about to begin."

Accepting Gawain's offered arm, Llynya allowed him to lead her to the meadow where several big tables had been laden with food, and already swarmed with villagers. Sitting down next to the other knights, they were the source of open fascination to several of the younger children, much to Llynya's embarrassment and Gawain's amusement.

A red-haired man that Llynya vaguely remembered from her time hiding in the barn stood up and motioned for silence. After thanking the knights and their friends for ridding the village of the beast, he made a short speech conveying his hope that the people of Avebury might now look upon a brighter future. There was a moments silence for those that had lost their lives to Tauleas and the beast, candles lit upon the graves and glowing brightly in the dusk. Llynya grabbed Gawain's hand as a shy looking girl with a sweet clear voice sang a lament to those lost, and bit back her tears. Some people were crying openly, and it was several moments before the speech was resumed by the man who Llynya discovered went by the name of Aldred. Although fairly young, he spoke with conviction and hope, and was obviously respected by his peers. This then must be Dynadan's successor, Llynya mused. It seemed that the villagers had chosen well.

Clapping along with everyone else at the end of the speech, she laughed as Bors roared his approval, somehow managing to slosh a great deal of ale over Galahad. A nudge against her side made her jump, and turning to speak sharply at the person who had goosed her, she smiled when she found Lark's liquid eyes watching her hopefully.

"Should have known you wouldn't want to miss out on a feast," she muttered to the lurcher, slipping a piece of ham down to her. Tom noticed the gesture and shook his head ruefully. Lark was nothing if not persuasive, and she was likely to double her size given the amount of treats that people had already given her. Llynya saw him roll his eyes and shrugged innocently. Tonight was a night to forget the horrors of the past few days and celebrate the village's new freedom. In the morning the knights would leave and she would ride with them. It was not only the village that faced a new future. Taking a gulp of wine, she looked at the people lit by the braziers and their own hope and happiness. She would enjoy this celebration, and feeling Gawain brush his lips against her neck, she was fairly certain that she would enjoy the night as well.

**A/N Only one more chapter left to go! A bit of a lighter chapter this - what can I say? Much as I adore Gawain, he does look like he needs a good bath lol! Thank-you so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter - I feel very lucky to have such lovely readers. Phia - in answer to your question, I have no plans for a sequel to this story at present (although I don't mind anyone using Llynya's character as long as they ask first). If I write any more KA fics then she might make an appearance as a back-ground character - I've got an idea for a continuation of "Fortune and Pheasants" and she'll almost certainly be a part of that, but it'll be a while coming I'm afraid. Thanks for your continued support and encouragement.**


	26. Chapter 26

**Disclaimer: nothing you recognise belongs to me.**

It was almost dawn before the celebrations finally came to a close. There had been laughter and dancing, tears and regret. Most people did not bother returning to their homes: giddy at the prospect of a night that did not conceal the beast or it's master, and warmed by the ale and wine that had flowed freely, they slumped against buildings or curled up in their cloaks. The knights had joined in the festivities enthusiastically, and the first pale light of dawn gilded Galahad's curls and gave him an angelic appearance that was somewhat incongruous; especially given the fact that his head was currently resting in the lap of a rather buxom girl who had lost more than just her fear of the beast that night. Bors snored loudly, surrounded by empty ale flagons and for once an equally inebriated Dagonet whose huge body had provided a warm, if unwitting bed for Lark .

Tristan watched the scene from the tavern roof, unobtrusive and silent. He had eaten with his brothers, honoured the dead and relaxed as much as he ever did, but noisy groups were not to his taste, and frivolous conversations utterly beyond him. Running a long finger over his hawk's sleek throat, he watched as Llynya disentangled herself from Gawain's sleeping bulk, and with a quick glance around, picked her way through the slumbering bodies. Curious, he got to his feet and stretched his stiff muscles, watching as she slid through the gate to the little cemetery. Satisfied that she would not come to any harm, he quirked a half smile as Gawain yawned widely - every inch the rumpled golden lion that Llynya had described him as. Rolling onto his side, the tousled-haired knight reached out for his companion, and finding her missing, struggled up groggily. Settling back down, Tristan watched his brother look around with blood-shot blue eyes, and decided to leave him to find Llynya himself.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Llynya picked her way carefully over the sleeping knights and villagers, grateful for the cool breeze that cooled her tired eyes and brushed her tangled hair from her face. It had been a strange, sad, wonderful evening, and she was thankful that she had been careful with the wine. Gawain and his brothers had not so much slept as lapsed into unconsciousness - she doubted that they would remember much of the previous night.

For her, however, it had been something strange and new. The frailty of life was no new lesson to be learnt; grief, sorrow and acceptance long since understood and endured, however bitterly. Hope however, now that was a fragile precious thing that had flickered like fireflies among the villagers when they talked of the future. Hope was the strange giddy sensation that had sparked against the bone-deep love that she felt when she tucked her cheek against Gawain's shoulder and felt the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath her fingers. Strange how things turn out…

Tom had decided to stay in the village, and while she would miss him, she understood his reasons for doing so. Louisa needed help with the tavern and in all truth needed someone to take care of her. Lark would act as a guard dog, as long as she managed to drag herself away from the many patrons who seemed to have adopted her as an unofficial mascot, and Aldred was keen to recruit Tom as an advisor to the village counsel. It was a new start for the kind-hearted hunter, and Llynya smiled as she remembered the discreet, yet interested, glances he had exchanged with a pretty plump woman who had blushed when she had handed him a goblet of wine. Perhaps Tom would find more than peace and a sense of purpose in this little village.

Picking a handful of cowslips and daisies from the tangle of wildflowers that softened the stark fence that edged the graveyard, Llynya crouched before Charlotte's grave. The earth was still churned and fresh, the rough wooden cross totally unsuitable as a marker for the bright spirit of the girl it was supposed to pay tribute to. Llynya carefully laid the flowers around the cross, twining some of the larger blooms around the rough wood. Sitting back on her haunches, she looked at the little grave and told Charlotte about the celebration in the village, the death of Tauleas and her part in it, and finally her fears and hopes for the future. Charlotte was unsurprisingly silent, but as a sudden gust of wind swept through the little graveyard, Llynya fancied that she could hear laughter, and was almost unsurprised when she looked down and found a daisy nestled in her lap.

"Peace be with you." Kissing the daisy, she placed it carefully on the grave. "Try not to annoy the angels too much."

Rising to her feet, she brushed the dirt from her knees and paused when she saw Arthur entering the cemetery, obviously lost in thought and unaware of her presence. He was almost upon her before he noticed her, and startled, he had half drawn his sword before realising who she was.

"Please excuse me, Llynya." He looked a little abashed as he re-sheathed his weapon, and Llynya smiled.

"Sir." She bobbed a curtsey and looked at him surreptitiously. "I trust that you are well?"

He gave a rueful laugh and smiled at the young woman before him. "I am neither unconscious as most of the villagers seem to be, nor suffering the hangover that will no doubt be blighting my knights later."

Llynya smiled at his comments - a Roman with a sense of humour? She had not thought such creatures existed. If she was to stay with Gawain, and in truth she could not imagine life without him, Arthur would in a sense be her commander too. He would be the one who dictated when her lover would fight, when he would leave her, and where she and the other women would go if Rome dictated that the knights should move from their post at Hadrians wall. Glancing at the big man's weary face and tired green eyes, she reached out and patted his arm - a gesture that would have been unthinkable only a few days ago.

"You look exhausted," she said shyly. "Tristan is keeping watch and everyone else is asleep; perhaps you should follow their example."

"Indeed." He yawned widely and studied her with amused green eyes. "Perhaps I will recruit you as an advisor when we return to the wall."

Llynya blushed and bit back a grin. " I'm not sure that your decision would be approved by Rome."

"You are right." Arthur paused for a moment before looking at the young girl seriously. "Llynya… This is not an easy life that you have chosen for yourself. I will not allow harm to come to you, but be sure of your choice, be sure that this is truly what you want before you follow us to Hadrians Wall."

Llynya met his eyes and smiled. "I'm sure." Her words were true - she barely paused before answering the Roman commander. Her life would not be simple, but then it never had been. She would face the trials to come as well as she could, but she would not face them alone.

"Llynya?" Both she and Arthur turned at the soft call.

Gawain was approaching them, his hair a rumpled mass of golden curls and braids, his eyes squinting tiredly in the bright dawn light. He looked exhausted, dangerous, and to Llynya everything she had ever wanted and dared not wish for. "I'm sure," she repeated. Giving Arthur a brief smile, she walked towards the blond knight, back to her love, back to where she had always belonged.

The End.

**A/N Well there we are - the end! Thanks to everyone who read, reviewed, encouraged and criticised - it really helped. If anyone has any comments on the story, or suggestions as to things I could have done better then I would really appreciate feedback . Best wishes and happy writing/reading to everyone : )**


End file.
